Three Point O
by TheStoriesOfUs
Summary: "We got any ground rules? For the brand new, shiny, healthy family dynamic?" "De Santa 2.0" "Uh, 3.0. The Townleys would be 1.0. Then the De Santas were more like 2.0. This is like 3.0." -The daily lives of the De Santas after Ending C.
1. Chapter 1

_Hello old/new readers! If you're old, welcome to my new story! New readers, you may have seen my other fic on here before. Long story short: this is my first multichapter so apologies if it isn't as great. This fic is Michael/Amanda (as per usual_ _) and follows the De Santas throughout the first week that are back after Ending C. In this first chapter, the kids talk a little sense into their stubborn parents. As usual, enjoy, review, and all of that :)_

"Honey, I'm home…" Michael said sarcastically, the statement nothing more than a quiet mutter under his breath as he quietly shut the front door behind him. For once, the house was silent; even Jimmy had stopped playing his video games and had gone to bed at this hour. His eyes briefly darted towards the digital clock, the red numbers burning into his eyes in the darkness of the house. _4:00am_ , he groaned internally and briefly wondered why Trevor had them go across the state to tie up those loose ends.

He had just begun trudging upstairs when he saw a light on in the living room. As soon as he stepped into the living room, he was greeted by the sight of Amanda curled up in one of the chairs, fast asleep, and an empty mug of coffee next to her. The dim light of the lamp casted shadows on her face, highlighting the dark circles under her eyes and her lips that were pursed in worry. A small smile crossed his face at the familiar sight. _Old habits die hard…_

Michael gently shook her shoulder to wake her up. "Baby, I'm home."

Amanda stirred under his touch for a moment before slowly starting to wake up. She yawned, a content smile on her face before realizing that it was him and wrapping her arms around his neck. "You're back," she grinned, voice muffled from burying her face into his shoulder. She inhaled deeply into his shoulder, breathing in his scent of cigarette smoke and the leather of his jacket. "Welcome home, darling."

"Shouldn't I be saying that to you?" he asked, wrapping his own arms around her. "You've been living at a hotel for about a week now."

"Don't be a smart ass," she protested weakly. The venom in the comment was lost in her grogginess, making her sound more cute than intimidating. "Me and the kids came home as soon as you said it was safe and that was like ten hours ago…"

"Ah, sorry 'bout that. Fuckin' Trevor sent me on an errand halfway across San Andreas. Besides, you know you didn't have to wait for me," he said softly.

"I wasn't. Swear." She stared at him, a deadpan look on her face. He smirked at her and allowed his eyes to purposefully wander over to the clock she'd kept right to her that she had no doubt been checking all night and the cup of coffee that hadn't kept her awake.

" _Right_ ," he said knowingly before grabbing her hand and starting to lead her upstairs. "Thankfully you won't have to do that any longer."

"Oh, really?" she murmured tiredly, allowing him to drag her along because she was too tired and lazy to get up the stairs herself.

"Yeah. I'm done with that crazy shit, babe. For real this time. Things are gonna be a lot better from now on, you'll see," he reassured her, confidence dripping from his voice. He led her into their bedroom, where Amanda not-so-elegantly flopped down onto the bed with a sigh.

"I've heard _that_ before…" she said bitterly, leaning up on her elbows and watching as he sat down next to her and started taking off his jacket. There was something apprehensive, almost cautious in the way she looked at him, the way she talked to him, and he knew that she didn't believe him.

"I'm serious about this, okay?" His voice grew soft, almost urgent for a second, and he made sure to look deeply into her eyes when he said, "We aren't gonna make the same mistakes we did, Amanda."

She couldn't quite meet his gaze. "Hmmm…" she drawled out hesitantly before hastily changing the subject. "I'm gonna go back to sleep. All of that not waiting for you took a lot out of me…"

Michael sighed at her answer, or lack thereof, but decided to let it slide until the morning. "Me too. I'm fuckin' _beat,_ 'Mand," he muttered as he kicked his shoes off and stripped down to his boxers. He laid down next to her and gently wrapped an arm around her waist, acutely aware of the way her body tensed beneath his touch for a moment. "Good night, sweetheart. I love you."

She shut her eyes next to him. "Good night, Michael."

* * *

He couldn't sleep much that night. If it wasn't the insomnia, it was the nightmares. Every time he shut his eyes, it was the same horrible images of _that night_ playing in his head. His mind tortured him with all of the things that could have happened if he hadn't been fast enough to stop Merryweather. Him dying, Tracey dying, Amanda dying…

Michael sat up and looked over at his wife at that last thought, needing some reassurance that she was actually there and that it'd just been some dream. Somewhere in between his second and third nightmare, she'd squirmed out of his arms and gone as far away to her edge of the bed she could.

He sighed, running a hand through his hand through his hair that was damp with sweat. It was as if they'd gone back in time six months and nothing had changed. He could only hope that it wasn't a permanent thing.

Resigned to his fate, Michael laid back down and shut his eyes, hoping to get at least a few hours of sleep.

* * *

He woke up the next morning to see her side of the bed unoccupied. Not thinking anything of it, he got dressed and went downstairs, only finding his son huddled over his laptop at the dinner table. "Hey, kid," Michael greeted with a yawn, looking around the nearly empty house. "Have you seen your mother?"

Jimmy barely even looked up from his computer. "Oh, hey, Dad," he said distractedly. He frowned down at the laptop in concentration, no doubt playing some game judging by the sounds of simulated gunfire and insults carrying through his headphones. "Ugh, get _off_ my face, dude!" he growled before shutting the computer with a frustrated thud and finally looking back up at Michael. "Uh, Mom's out."

Michael glanced at the clock, raising his eyebrows in suspicion upon seeing that it was barely the afternoon. "She's _out_? Doing what?"

"Well…"

* * *

"Why are we here?" Tracey whined as her mother pulled her into probably the tenth shop they'd been in since she'd been basically forced to go shopping.

Amanda just dragged her further along, sighing in irritation. One of her arms continued tugging her daughter along, the other hauling all of her shopping bags. "We are here to have some quality mother-daughter time, Tracey. Or are you not ready for that step in our newly healthy family relationship yet?"

Tracey scoffed at that. "And _you_ are?" she snapped, making Amanda stop dead in her tracks. Amanda turned around to face her, eyes filled with thinly veiled anger and hurt. She recovered quickly enough, managing to keep her emotions from her eyes, but the way that her hands tightened around the bags betrayed it.

"Why do you say that?" she asked nervously, trying her best to hide her feelings from her daughter. She tried to distract herself by looking at clothes, but couldn't shake her nervousness.

"Oh, _come on,_ Mom," Tracey rolled her eyes in annoyance. "You always take me out whenever you want to complain about your problems. And we all know that you've been acting weird ever since you and Dad got back together."

"I'm not acting like _anything_!" Amanda tried to defend herself hopelessly. "Jesus...why can't we just have a nice day out without arguing for once?"

"Don't try to change the subject. Look...I know you don't want to talk about this stuff, but I don't want things to turn into what happened last time," Tracey's voice grew soft for a second, and it quickly made Amanda's anger fade because she'd never heard her daughter sound so serious before.

"Okay, fine," she conceded. "What do you want to talk about?"

"How are things between you and Dad?" Tracey immediately asked.

"We're fine-" Amanda started to lie before quickly being interrupted.

"The _truth_ , Mom."

"Things are...they're weird, okay?" Amanda finally sighed in defeat. "I mean, _fuck_ , Tracey, one minute we were back to normal and the next there were guns pointed at our heads! So, forgive me if I'm still not over that yet."

"Do you seriously think that if Dad had any idea that that would've happened he would've let us move back in?" Tracey asked, eyebrows raised in disbelief. "Say what you want about him, but he's done as much as he can to protect us. And I don't think that's the only thing you're worried about."

"I don't know...there's a lot of things between us that are fucked up right now. He keeps telling me that this time will be better, that he's different now...but he's promised me this kind of thing _so many_ times before. When we moved here, when we were fighting, before we left...and nothing ever changed. I just don't know if he's going to change now…" Amanda admitted, voice dropping to nothing more than a shaky whisper.

"I can't pretend to know everything about your relationship because you two have over twenty years of fucked up experiences that I don't know about…" Tracey laughed to herself as she started to look through the clothes in the store. "...but I think that he's really changing this time. Dad was a _mess_ while we were gone, you saw how destroyed the house was when we came back. I talked to him a couple times and he wouldn't stop begging us for one more chance. I don't know...I think you two should talk about it. You guys obviously have a lot more problems than a five-minute screaming match in front of our therapist can fix."

"Since when are you the one giving me relationship advice?" Amanda managed to let out a weak laugh. "And since when did you get so good at it?"

"Since you and Dad obviously didn't stay together because of your _amazing_ communication skills, I figured I should just do it for you," Tracey said sarcastically. "So, are we gonna keep shopping or are you gonna go talk to him?"

Amanda paused for a moment at that, letting her eyes linger over a skimpy black dress before impulsively taking it off the rack and turning back to her daughter. "Alright. I'm ready."

* * *

"What's she doing with Tracey?" Michael asked, sitting next to his son at the table.

"I dunno…" Jimmy shrugged indifferently. "I asked and they just said it was girl stuff or some shit."

"Of course they did," Michael chuckled. They lapsed into a kind of awkward silence for a minute before he turned back to his son. "Uh, kid, I wanted to ask you something."

"Ask away, Dad…" Jimmy said distractedly, focusing on his laptop again.

"It's about your mother. Has...has she been different lately? After that, uh...that one night?" Michael stuttered around the subject, unwilling to bring himself to talk about it. "We haven't really talked about anything since then and I wanted to know if she's said anything to you about it."

"No offense, pop, but we were all pretty fucked up after that night," Jimmy said harshly, and Michael knew that he was sore over the topic, too. "She didn't talk about it and neither did Tracey and I. Mom just mostly stayed in her room the whole time."

"Ah, okay…" Michael said quietly, allowing them to go into an even more uncomfortable silence. "Sometimes I think we needed more time," he suddenly blurted out after a while.

Jimmy just sighed. "What are you talking about?"

"Your mom and I. Sometimes I wonder if we needed more time to move beyond screaming at each other...sometimes I wonder if maybe she'd be better off without me. This shit wouldn't have happened if you guys were still away from me…" Michael let out a deep sigh, putting his head in his hands. What he'd really like was a drink to distract himself from all of the things that were already going wrong, but he knew exactly what road that led down and that wasn't a path he would like to repeat. "I just don't want things to be more of the same…"

"And they won't as long as you don't, like, run off to rob banks and kill people again instead of being with us. Or, y'know, try to destroy our family again," Jimmy suddenly snapped out at him. Years of bitterness were starting to surface and Michael had the feeling that this was just the beginning of it.

"Ah, I'm sorry-look, this conversation...it's not going the way I thought it would," Michael quickly tried to backtrack before his son scoffed at him, rolling his eyes.

"What, you wanted me to give you a hug and absolve you of your many sins because you were trying your best?" he asked sarcastically.

"Well, _yeah_ , that would have been nice," Michael almost laughed despite the circumstances, before his voice grew quiet and deadly serious. "Look, Jim, I know that I'm a shitty person and a shitty dad, but I love you and things _will_ be different, alright? I'm not going anywhere anytime soon."

"Alright, jeez...why do you have to get so emotional?" Jimmy managed to get out through a shaky voice. "But, uh, thanks, Dad…"

"Anytime, bud," Michael managed a small smile. "And, Jim?"

"Yeah, Dad?"

"I'm really happy to have you all back."

"All of that fighting _was_ kinda shitty…" Jimmy finally admitted.

"Well, that much fighting ain't gonna happen now, I promise," Michael said, confidence dripping from his voice.

"You know, it's not all gonna magically be better. You can't take Mom for granted again."

"I won't. A...a lot of stuff has happened between us these past few years and I..." Michael paused as he scratched at the back of his neck nervously, unable to find the right words to say. "I, uhm, I treated her badly, I see that now…"

"Maybe you should tell her that. Could go a long way with her," Jimmy shrugged indifferently, but his tone was knowing.

"Yeah, maybe-" Michael started before the sound of the front door opening cut him off.

"We got your daughter some beautiful things!" Amanda called out in a singsong voice as she stepped inside the house. A small smile worked across Michael's face as he heard her voice and he quickly walked over to her, greeted by the sight of her and Tracey practically engulfed in shopping bags.

"And your wife!" Tracey added with a small wink towards Amanda.

"And, that, ladies, is why I work hard," Michael said with a smirk. His gaze wandered over to his wife, eyes meeting with hers for the briefest of moments before they both had to look away.

Tracey quickly broke the awkwardness between them by walking over to where her brother was sitting. "Jimmy, let's go upstairs so I can show you some of the cool shit I got."

"But I don't want to-" Jimmy immediately started whining in his typical fashion.

"Let's. Go. Upstairs," Tracey emphasized every word, eyes darting between Michael and Amanda pointedly.

" _Ohhh_ ," Jimmy finally understood what she was saying (or trying to say) and got up, hastily following his sister upstairs, leaving Michael and Amanda standing there, unsure of whether to laugh at their children's poor attempt at being subtle or panic at being left alone with each other.

"Hey…" Michael said nervously, uncomfortably shifting on his feet.

Amanda just awkwardly smiled at him. "Hey…" she echoed.

"So, uh, how was your shopping?" he asked in a desperate attempt to make small talk.

"Good…it was good," she said quickly, eyes averting to the floor.

The two of them lapsed into an almost unbearable silence. Both of them had so many things to say to each other, but weren't quite sure _how_ to say it, so they just stood there for who knew who long before they both couldn't stand it.

"Amanda, I-"

"Michael-"

They started talking at the exact same time, making the both of them laugh shakily, and Michael just gestured for her to go first because he was too scared to do it himself. "Ladies first," he said.

"Michael, I...I wanna talk to you. About us," she started, still staring down at the floor.

"I was just about to tell you the same thing," he said. He smiled at her reassuringly, trying his best to keep his apparent nervousness at bay. It wasn't all that often that he was this nervous, but Amanda did that to him and now was no exception.

"I don't want things to be weird between us, Michael," she started, biting her lip in that distracting way like she always did when she was hesitant about something. "So...I need to ask you something, something that I need to know."

"Anything," was his quick reply.

"Are you serious about this, Michael? About us?" Amanda finally looked up to meet his gaze, and when she did, her own eyes were filled with something between fear and hopefulness.

"Yeah, I...of course. Look, I've never been more serious about anything, okay?" he said quietly, reaching over and grabbing her hand, shaking beneath his.

"I mean, you've lied about this so many times …" she sighed. "I can't have it turn into what happened last time, I can't…"

He just gripped her hand a little tighter. Looking into her tear-filled eyes, he could see what she meant, what she couldn't go through again. Years of staring at the bedroom ceiling, wondering if the TV would turn ever turn off downstairs, wondering if he'd ever come to bed. Years of defending their kids from his slurred words and trying to protect their image of him at the same time. "I'm sorry, Amanda…" he whispered, one of his fingers running along her wedding ring. "I brought this all shit down on myself and I took you with me. You, ah...you deserved better than me. "

She wiped away the tears starting to form in her eyes. "Yeah, well, we were both kind of the king and queen of shitty. I did a lot of stupid things that I regret, too, Michael. It's not all your fault."

Michael just nodded sadly at that. "You know…I'm not lying about this now," he said in a low voice.

"Are we going to be faithful?" she asked.

"Yes," he said immediately. A small shiver ran through him at those memories, at all of the lying and cheating they'd done to each other, and was determined not to repeat those same mistakes.

" _Promise me_ , Michael," she said desperately, clutching onto his hand as if it were a lifeline.

"I promise you," he reassured her, pressing a gentle kiss to her hand. "Amanda, we're gonna do it and we're gonna do it _right_ this time. It isn't gonna be be perfect...we are who we are...but we can do this, darlin'."

Slowly, Amanda relaxed under his touch and his constant promises that things would be better. He quickly brushed away any tears that threatened to escape her eyes and made sure that none did until she calmed down. They stayed like that for a while; him silently holding her while she regained her composure. What he didn't expect next was the soft smile she gave him or the delicate kiss that she pressed to his lips. "Let's make this work," she whispered in his ear.


	2. Chapter 2

_Back at it with another chapter :D I have to say thank you for all of your positive feedback on the first one! I wasn't quite sure how well this fic would do, but you guys are the best with your feedback. I plan to update this about once every couple of weeks (while still updating Just About Married, of course), until this fic is over. This chapter involves a lot of domesticity (and is the chapter that gave the name to this fic!) Enjoy :D_

* * *

It was the next morning and plans for reconnecting were already in full effect. Or, at least, for one of them they were. The kids (and Michael) were barely awake, their blurry, sleepy eyes staring at Amanda, who was practically bursting with energy despite it barely being nine in the morning, with something between jealousy at her liveliness and irritation about being woken up early.

Tracey, naturally, was the first one to voice her annoyance. "Why did you wake me up so early? I barely get enough beauty sleep as it is…" she yawned while halfheartedly glaring at her parents.

Michael weakly held his hands up in defense. "Hey, this was your mother's idea…" he said, words slightly slurred from tiredness. He glanced over at his energetic wife almost enviously. _Fuckin' morning people…_

Amanda just smirked at him as if she'd read his mind before turning her attention back to their kids. "Kids, your father and I had a nice talk yesterday," she started, earning a half-smile from Michael as he wrapped an arm around her waist. "And we decided that we're gonna make things work this time because...well, we all know that this family is too fucked up for anyone else to understand...and because we figured out that we were both being idiots for the past few years," she said softly, looking up at Michael lovingly at the last part.

"Uh, geez, Mom, that's great and all, but what exactly does that have to do with waking us up this early to tell us?" Jimmy asked tiredly, earning an enthusiastic nod from Tracey (the most awake thing that any of them had done so far).

"We _also_ talked about a few other things," Amanda said with a glare, annoyed at being interrupted. "...one of them being that we want things to be better between _all_ of us...so we decided to have a little family meeting and some, um, reconnecting later...right, babe?" she asked, looking to her husband at the last part, who just smiled at her and nodded.

"Ugh, _please_ tell me we're not gonna turn into one of those cliché families who have family meetings twice a week and are, like, the picture of domestic bliss," Tracey practically begged them.

"I don't think we could be even if we tried, Trace," Michael laughed. "But it's a start. So, your mother and I were thinking that we could go out to dinner later. All of us."

"Okay, but I'll be home a little later. I'm gonna go hang out with some friends for a while…" Tracey said.

"Good friends or industry people?" Michael asked, crossing his arms with a concerned frown on his face.

"Good friends, Dad," Tracey rolled her eyes. "I'm done with that stuff, especially since my Fame or Shame videos have been getting _a lot_ of views. Oh, and that one creepy stalker."

" _Former_ creepy stalker," Michael corrected her with a smug smile on his face as he remembered the one time that his overprotective father instincts finally helped.

"Oh, yeah, I'm gonna be a little late, too," Jimmy added. "I'm gonna go out and look for some jobs…"

"Well, that's great, Jim," Michael said excitedly. Both his and Amanda's eyes lit up at the thought of their son finally finding some gainful employment that didn't have to do with dealing drugs, and they just smiled at him proudly. "Good luck, kid."

They fell into an awkward silence after that. None of them had any experience with family meetings, or really being a normal family in general, and it was painfully obvious that none of them had any idea of what else to say or do. So they just stood there for a minute that seemed like hours until one of them broke it.

"So…" Tracey slowly drawled out, twirling her car keys around her finger. "Are we done?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess," Michael said before turning to his wife. "Hon?"

"Yeah, I think that's about it for now," Amanda nodded, causing the kids to get up from the couch and start for the front door. "And be home before six!" she called out as they left.

Michael watched them leave, sighing slightly. "We're getting old, aren't we?"

Amanda stared at the now-empty couch in front of them, nodding. "Yep…"

* * *

Michael had been sitting in one of the chairs by the pool, earbuds in and drink in hand, and was trying to kill some time before dinner when Amanda walked out, yoga mat tucked under her arm. He took out one earbud and looked over at her, half prepared for the argument that she would start because he was drinking by the pool again.

It never came. Instead, she just smiled over at him and unrolled the yoga mat before teasingly saying, "You gonna join me, Michael?"

Michael just shook his head as the memories of _that day_ came surging back to his head. "Sorry, babe, but I ain't quite ready to do it yet after what happened last time."

She just smirked at him and tried to wave him over. "I promise that you won't fall into the pool this time."

"Uh, that phony French pushed me in, 'Mand," he quickly corrected her. He just took another drink, fingers tightening around the glass as he remembered the embarrassment from that day.

"That was after _you_ tried to punch him, babe," she reminded him gently.

"After _he_ made a move on you," he shot back, annoyance creeping into his voice.

"...Which led to you doing drugs while driving our son around," Amanda said with a glare, starting to get irritated herself.

"Is that what he told you?" Michael laughed as he lifted the glass to his mouth.

She just looked at him in confusion. "Wait...what are you talking about?"

"Babe, even I'm not that much of an asshole that I'd be high while driving, especially not with Jimmy in the car. Besides, you know me, I'm more of an alcohol kinda guy," he said, gesturing to the whiskey in his hand. "The truth of it is that the little shit spiked a drink and tricked me into drinking it. Next thing I know, he takes my car and credit card and I wake up a couple blocks away in my underwear after the weirdest fuckin' trip of my life. And then when I got home, you guys were gone..."

"He... _drugged you_?!" Amanda asked angrily, earning a nod from Michael. "Unbelievable…" she muttered under her breath as she got out her phone to yell at their son. That had been the last straw, the thing that had finally led her to move out that day, and it wasn't even true! In hindsight, the story _had_ seemed a little off…maybe it was what she'd wanted to believe...

Michael quickly stopped her from calling him. "Babe, don't. Kid apologized to me and...well, we're here together now, so it doesn't really matter to me anymore," he told her with a small smile.

She relaxed slightly, most of the anger quickly leaving her once she saw that _damn_ smile. Michael did always have a way of reassuring her, and it was still just as effective over all of their years of marriage. "...fine," Amanda finally sighed out as she put her phone back down. "So, where were we?"

"Ah, let's see…" Michael trailed off teasingly with a faux contemplative look on his face and fingers stroking over his non-existent beard as if deep in thought. "We _were_ arguing like any other married assholes."

"Right. Now, are you gonna keep being a child or are you gonna join me?" she asked playfully, gesturing to the empty yoga mat next to hers. It was a challenge, they both knew it as soon as she said it. She just crossed her arms and looked at him expectantly, one eyebrow raised as if to say _I'm waiting_.

And they both knew that he was never one to back down from a challenge. "Fine," he conceded gruffly, setting his drink down and crossing over to the mat, the look in his eyes betraying his amusement at the whole thing. "You're on."

* * *

It went significantly better than the last time he'd attempted yoga (though that didn't really take much). After many complaints of " _ah, my fuckin' back"_ from him and her soothingly telling him to " _just breathe, honey"_ , they managed to do a few poses. Simple ones, though. She didn't want to scar the poor man just yet.

From the way he looked, she already had. His face was bright red, and some of his hair had fallen into his forehead, the black strands stuck there with sweat. He was sitting on the yoga mat, panting, having practically collapsed there after they'd finished.

She'd barely even broken a sweat, and was sitting next to him with her eyes filled with amusement instead of his. It was funny, she thought, that someone who could run for his life from the cops every day could get so exhausted from doing yoga.

Michael seemed to read her mind, his face flushing in embarrassment. "Don't judge me," he muttered next to her.

Amanda just kissed him on the cheek lightly. "You did good, babe," she said before getting up and going back into the house, leaving him there to sulk.

"Fuckin' A…" he said under his breath as he ran a hand through his hair and brushed it back from his forehead. He shakily reached into his pocket and pulled out his pack of cigarettes before lighting one up and putting it between his lips. He sighed in relief against the cigarette, failing to realize the irony of exercising and then smoking right after.

Michael became so lost in his post-workout self-pity that he didn't notice Amanda peeking through the kitchen window at him.

"Michael?" she yelled through it, making him jump in surprise and drop the cigarette. "Are you smoking?!"

"Not anymore…" he said to himself as he sadly stomped it out before calling out, "No, angel, don't be silly! I'm not smoking, I'm _meditating_."

Amanda came back outside, with a water bottle in each of her hands and a smirk on her face. "Sure, darling," she laughed once she saw the smashed cigarette on the ground. She sat back down and held a water bottle out to him, which he just gratefully took, immediately chugging it while she watched him with a thoughtful look on her face. "l...I know that you're serious about this after today," she said suddenly.

"Why's that, darling?" he asked breathlessly between sips of water. Before she knew it, he had swiftly finished the rest of the bottle, and looked significantly better by the time that he did.

"Because you would have _never_ agreed to doing more yoga if you didn't care about this," she said with a laugh.

"Well, I know that you like it…" Michael tried to appear nonchalant, but the hesitant smile that he returned proved otherwise. "And, ah, you _did_ kinda challenge me there, babe…"

"I guess I did...but you opened up a lot, that's all," she said softly, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. To her surprise, she couldn't feel any of the tension that he always held in his shoulders, making her eyebrows raise in shock. "You know, Michael, I know you won't admit it because you're that type of guy, but I think you kind of liked it."

He just shrugged. "A bit," he said, still aloof as ever. _Baby steps_ , she thought, sighing slightly.

She pressed a quick, gentle kiss to his lips to stifle the sigh. "Uh-huh. Oh, by the way, the kids just got home, so we better start getting ready…" she started before her eyes wandered along his disheveled, messy appearance. "...And I think you should take a shower, darling."

* * *

The first part of their dinner went remarkably well. They hadn't murdered each other on the way to the restaurant or before ordering their food, so that was a good start. Each of them had their respective drinks in front of them: Michael with his usual order of whiskey, Amanda with a glass of wine, Tracey with one of those fruity alcoholic drinks, and Jimmy with...soda.

The younger man just sighed in annoyance. "Come on, Dad, why can't you just get me a beer? I'm almost twenty-one…"

"Jim, you're barely twenty," Michael told him, laughing as he took a sip from his own drink. "And I ain't quite ready to condone your drinking...or smoking grass for that matter..."

"So...the robbing and shooting is cool...but drinking isn't?" Jimmy slowly asked, the confusion in his voice evident. He stared down at their drinks in jealousy, once again wishing that he wasn't the youngest.

"Exactly. It's a level of hypocrisy I can live with. Besides, if things go wrong, we can count on you as our designated driver," Michael joked, earning a laugh from everyone except his son. Michael was a man of _some_ principles; however low they were.

"Aw, come on, Jimmy. If you're _trying_ to get fit, you shouldn't drink, anyway. I mean, look at Dad," Tracey said sarcastically, gesturing over to a very surprised and offended Michael.

"Hey, wait a minute-" he started defensively, about to start an argument before Amanda rested her hand on his arm reassuringly, quickly calming him down. "Alright, ha, ha, very funny…" he said good-naturedly, rolling his eyes. "Look, this is supposed to be quality bonding time...so, uh, we got any ground rules? For the brand new, shiny, healthy family dynamic?"

"De Santa 2.0," Jimmy added, helpfully giving a name to their "healthy" dynamic.

"Uh, 3.0, dickball," Tracey corrected him, smirking against her drink as if she'd just figured the whole thing out. "The Townleys would be 1.0. Then the De Santas were more like 2.0. This is like 3.0."

"You're right. Does that mean we need a new name? 'Cause we could just take, like, one of yours from the cam. Remind me: do you spell it with two x's or is it three?" Jimmy taunted her, immediately making Tracey's face flush from anger.

Her fingers curled around the glass of her drink in a death grip and she looked like she was about to strangle Jimmy any second. "...Shut up," she finally managed to snap.

"Ground rules," Michael reminded them firmly, trying his best to keep them from fighting already. "Now, where are we?"

The question was met with dead, uncomfortable silence. Unfazed, Michael just thought of his own. "Alright, fine. I got a few myself, one of them being that there won't be any more weed-or any of whatever the fuck else you smoke-in my house," he said, earning a long, defeated sigh from Jimmy. "And the other one: no more boys in my house," he added with a pointed look at Tracey, who just rolled her eyes indignantly. "The walls aren't very thick, Trace"

"You want me to go to an alley or something, Dad?" she asked petulantly, crossing her arms with a frown.

"No, I want you to be more responsible, Tracey-" he started with a sigh.

"That's funny coming from _you_ ," she scoffed, interrupting him.

"Do as I say, not as I do. We've been over this a hundred times," Michael chuckled. "Anyway, you can always call me or your mother if you need a ride home from the bar."

"If you two are even sober…" she said sarcastically, taking a long drink from her glass, obviously not happy with the new rule.

" _Which_ is something else that we're working on, thank you very much," he said with a glare, looking down at his and Amanda's drinks, which were not quite empty yet. Well, it wasn't a total lie... "And you'll be going to ULSA soon enough, and whatever you do or do not do in those dorms will be none of my concern," he finished, finally earning that same look of surrender from his daughter. "Any other rules?"

Amanda finally joined in on the conversation. "I got one I can think of."

Her husband turned towards her eagerly, glad that at least one of them was participating. "And what's that, baby?" he asked lovingly.

"Don't get killed," was her short response.

Michael just chuckled at that. "That's kinda out of my hands…"

"Oh, number two: don't be a smartass," she added sarcastically. "And don't get us killed either."

Her tone was humorous, but he could see the worry and concern that still lingered behind her blue eyes. He just reached over and grabbed her free hand (her other one was about to snap her wine glass in half), his hand interlacing with hers reassuringly. His eyes looked deeply into hers for a second, a silent plea in them as he started to pry her fingers away from the glass. _Please put it down_.

She did, but he couldn't help but notice the way her shoulders slumped and her eyes became distant as if recalling a horrible memory. Michael just kept holding her hand and turned back to the kids, who, thank God, had stayed silent. "That ain't happening. Yeah, I've been remiss lately…" he admitted in a grave voice. "...but I'll do everything I can to protect you guys, I promise. Things have fallen into place, baby, and the safest place you can be is right here, with me."

Amanda raised an eyebrow at that, but a tiny semblance of a smile started to tug at the edges of her mouth. "Oh, really?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm telling you, I've totally figured the whole thing out. I'm going _legit_. Responsible," Michael replied eagerly, confidence practically dripping from his voice during his explanation.

" _Right_ , babe, and Jimmy's getting a job, and Tracey's going to college," Amanda said sarcastically, laughing as she took a drink. It was still a little bit hard for her to believe that they were actually getting along and might do something productive with their lives.

"I just paid this dude to write my résumé, so I'm like basically there, Mom," Jimmy said happily.

Tracey just nodded. "And I'm definitely doing the test again. I've started filling in the form, uh, but Dad hooked me up with this audition, _so_ …" she drawled out the last word with a helpless shrug.

"And I'm a movie producer!" Michael exclaimed proudly. He was practically beaming from ear to ear, and Amanda couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm, the same one that he'd had for years about movies. After all this time, she still found it just as amazing as she did from the day that she'd met him.

"Well...I guess being a movie producer _is_ a more legitimate and responsible career option than being a killer or a bank robber…" she said, smirking at up him teasingly. She stared at him for a second, and found herself reveling in the contentedness of his eyes, the carefree set of his shoulders, and it reminded her of the old Michael. The one who was filled with ambition and confidence and _life_. A grin worked its way across her face as she realized that this version of him could be permanent.

"3.0, baby," Michael said, raising his glass towards her.

* * *

"Well, that went a lot better than I expected," Michael told her later that night, when it was just him and her laying in their bed. The rest of the night had gone on without a hitch, and by the time that dinner had ended, they'd all felt better with each other than they had in a long time.

"Yeah, none of us murdered each other, so that's a good start," Amanda said teasingly. She moved closer to him, smiling at him through half-lidded eyes. "It was nice, babe. I think it was good for all of us. Maybe we should do it more often…"

"Maybe we should," he agreed, taking her hand in his and pulling it close to him. He ran his thumb across her wedding ring, a look of pure bliss and relief on his face.

"So…" she trailed off, hoping that he didn't notice her hesitantly bite her lip in the darkness of the room. "You got Tracey a movie audition? Aren't we trying to get her into college instead…?"

"Honey, I am a _lot_ of things and I've done a _lot_ of things that I ain't proud of," he started, putting a lot of emphasis on the word. "...but even I draw the line at nepotism. I told my guy to let her down easy, but hard enough to make her forget about this fame crap. Honestly, we should've nipped that idea in the bud years ago…"

"Aw, c'mon, Michael, it was cute," she protested, fondly looking back on memories of their daughter telling them that she wanted to be a famous celebrity, a dancer specifically, when she was just a little girl.

"Yeah, when she was twelve, babe," he said gently. "Y'know, you _did_ always encourage her when she was a kid…"

"Because it was cute, darling," she repeated, frowning at him.

"And because she reminded you of yourself and how you liked to dance," he said with a small laugh before his face grew deadly serious. "Look, 'Mand...this town is fuckin' brutal when it comes to girls like her. I've seen it firsthand, and I don't want her getting any more involved in this shit than she already is...I just want her to go to college, and, I don't know, break this cycle that our families have been trapped in for so long, y'know?"

Amanda just nodded sadly. He was right, she knew that, but it didn't make the harsh reality of it any easier. Neither of them could bear the thought of their daughter going down the same path that they did and that their parents did before them; a path of not paying any attention to school and not thinking about the future, a path that only led to future regrets.

"I get it…" she finally managed to whisper before she leaned forward and delicately kissed him. It was full of hesitance and insecurity, but mostly, it was full of _hope_. "We won't let her make those same mistakes we made, Michael," she said after they pulled away.

"They weren't _all_ mistakes…" he said softly. His arms gently traveled down to wrap around her waist and he buried his face into her hair, a small sigh of contentment escaping him.

She just shot him a soft smile as she leaned over to turn off the light before she snuggled up closer to him. "No, they weren't."


	3. Chapter 3

_Back with another chapter_ _This chapter might be a little bit slow, but it definitely sets up the next two chapters (where they may or may not party at a bar…) so stay tuned for those! As always, review and all of that stuff, and enjoy!_

He'd always had nightmares. Ever since he was a kid back in his shitty trailer in North Yankton, it'd been the same thing almost every night. Waking up screaming in the middle of the night, his shaking body covered in a cold sweat, hands twisted in his sheets as he recovered from the memories that plagued him.

Over time, it had developed into insomnia, like what he was having right now, but he almost preferred it to the images that flashed through his head every time he shut his eyes. It had started when he was little, having bad dreams of his father looming over him, with his belt in one hand and bottle in the other. When he was in his twenties, they became even worse with the pressing issue of his conscience objecting his hard lifestyle.

That had started to change when he met Amanda, he remembered with a smile, finally looking down from the ceiling for the first time in hours to look at her sleeping form snuggled into his arms. She was the only one who could calm him from the nightmares and ease him into sleeping at night. He always felt comforted in her presence, no matter how distant they'd been for the past few years.

Lately, though, the comfort had seemed to wear off, and the sleeplessness was back in full force. Maybe it was the fact that she was struggling with her own demons, or maybe it was the fact the new horrors the both of them faced were too strong to ignore.

The torture he'd been through only a month ago was only one of those things that kept him up at night. It had turned out that the physical wounds had been the easiest to heal after being hung from a meat hook and thinking that he'd die there, alone and unable to see his family again.

Michael still thought of the way they had taunted him as they beat him into submission, the way he watched the blood run down his body with each new slash from the knife, the way his ribs crunched with each swing of the baseball bat. He'd thought he'd known pain before that, but nothing he'd ever been through could ever compare to the hopelessness and agony of what he'd been through in those few days of torture.

He'd realized something about himself that day he'd looked at the meat grinder he'd slowly been sent towards. He'd realized how much he wanted to try and fix things, to try and live a better life that wasn't passing out drunk on the couch every night and constantly arguing with his family.

 _Maybe I finally can_ , he thought, smiling as he stared down at Amanda, who stirred restlessly in his arms and whimpered from another nightmare about the night that neither of them could forget. He wasn't sure if she remembered any of the dreams in the morning, and if she did, she never told him. Either way, he didn't press her about them. He just gently reached up to stroke her hair and didn't stop until her soft snores resumed.

"It's okay, baby…" he whispered in reassurance to calm her down. "You're okay…"

* * *

 _She looked over the dress she was going to wear, smiling. "I could get used to this…" she said to herself as she thought of the night ahead, of the red carpet and the fancy movie premiere they were going to, of how happy Michael would no doubt be._

 _The front door bursting open jolted her from her reverie. Her first thoughts were that of annoyance at Michael. One of these days he was gonna break the door with how hard he opened it…_

 _Amanda had just left the bedroom to go yell at him for it before she heard the all too familiar click of guns being readied and the gruff voice of a man who was definitely not her husband, "We got four names on our list. Let's do this."_

What the fuck….? _Fear started to coarse through her veins as she wondered what was happening, and she knew that she needed to act fast because she could hear the voices getting even closer to her._

" _Don't know why Weston won't just kill the guy himself instead of having us do this bullshit…" one of them said._

" _I'd rather be killing an annoying housewife and the oblivious kids than dealing with that bank robber and his crazy friends…" the other replied, earning a laugh from the first one._

 _The footsteps continued coming up the stairs. "Damn right. Let's get this over with."_

 _Amanda started to panic even harder at that._ It's a hit _, she realized, her heart practically pounding out of her chest. She looked around frantically for anything to help her, but the only things that could were in the bedroom that she didn't have the time to go back into. Michael's gun was in its usual spot under his pillow, and her phone was on the dresser where she'd left it…_

 _Out of options, she grabbed one of her high heels and waited for them to round the corner. The second they did, she swung, managing to hit one of them in the side of the head with the shoe. The mercenary just laughed it off once he got over the initial shock of the hit. "Cute," he smirked before reaching up and hitting her in the head with the stock of his pistol._

 _The pain and sheer force of it almost made her pass out on the spot. Almost, but what one of them said next made her determined to get back up and fight back: "You deal with her and I'll take care of the daughter."_

 _Through her blurry haze of vision, she could see one of them run into her daughter's bedroom. All she could do was helplessly stare as a man held to her daughter's head and listen to her cries for help. "Mom, fuck...help me!"_

Tracey, I'm sorry…

 _The mercenary above her stared at her for a moment hungrily, a look that Amanda had seen too many times throughout her life. "A shame that the bank robber has you all to himself…" he mused._

 _That was what finally gave her enough energy to get up and try to hit him again. Her futile attempt was quickly cut short by the hired soldier putting the barrel of the gun directly to her forehead. She weakly tried to fight him off, but didn't have any success. "Screw you, asshole-"_

 _Her insult was cut short by the deafening bang of a gunshot. She watched as the mercenary's life faded from his eyes, watched as his body slumped against her, watched as the blood splattered against her. Michael desperately tried to talk to her, but she wasn't there, not really._

 _All she could see was blood and bullet holes covering the walls of their once idyllic home. All she could see was the dead bodies littering the floor, and she couldn't stop thinking about how easily that could have been her, how it could have been her entire family. Dead. They all could have been dead-_

"Amanda, wake up!"

She instantly shot awake, screaming, and desperately tried to scramble away from the touch, but she couldn't. She was trapped again, she was going to die…

Michael gently turned her around to face him, resting his hands on her shoulders. "Baby, it's me, it's just me," he said soothingly. "It was just a bad dream, that's all."

Amanda buried her face into his shoulder, sobbing. "Michael…" was all she managed to say through her tears. Her fingers tangled deeply into the fabric of his shirt as she cried because she needed to know that he was real and wasn't just another part of her neverending nightmare.

"You're safe, Mandy. We're safe," he murmured. The strong hands that she always had admired about him stroked her hair. Reassuringly, lovingly, calmly, as he whispered in her ear, "Take a deep breath, baby. Just breathe."

She did, but it still took a few minutes before her crying subsided. Even after it did, she stayed in his arms, both of them desperate for each other's touch. It had been a couple weeks since _that night_...but it seemed like only yesterday that they were almost murdered in their own home. In the few days that they'd been back together, they were lucky if they got a few hours of sleep at night; Amanda too scared by the nightmares and Michael too busy trying to comfort her.

"Sorry I woke you up…" she said in between panicked breaths as if she didn't already know that he couldn't sleep.

"Don't be. Can't sleep again," he said, his hands still absentmindedly running through her hair.

"Insomnia?" was all she asked, earning a simple nod from him. She just sighed and moved closer to him. "God, we're fucked up…"

His own sad blue eyes stared up at the ceiling, darkening as if he was recalling some terrible memory. "Yep…"

"I...I just can't stop thinking about that night, you know?" she said, putting her face in her hands as if it would block the thoughts out from her mind. "It was awful, Michael…"

"I'm sorry, baby…" Michael said regretfully, wrapping his arms around her waist. "I shouldn't have gotten you guys into the stupid shit I did..."

"It's not your fault," she said shakily, avoiding his eyes so he wouldn't see the fresh tears forming in them.

"Yeah, it is...I've made a mess of everything since...since always-" he started to protest before she turned around and cut him off with a light kiss to his cheek.

She tilted his face towards hers so she could look deep into his eyes when she whispered, "You couldn't have known that this would've happened. I don't blame you for it, Michael, I really don't…" she said. "I just want to try and move past that shit. We're not perfect, Michael, but at least we're both trying. It'll take some time, but we'll be okay."

He nodded tiredly. "Thanks, Mandy…" he managed to say.

Amanda smiled at him and gripped his hand reassuringly before laying back down. "I think I should probably try to get a couple hours of sleep," she yawned. "Are you gonna sleep, too?"

He shook his head. "Nah, you go ahead. I got other shit on my mind, too…"

That piqued her interest. "Like what?" she asked, trying to be delicate around the no-doubt sensitive subject.

"It's not important…" he muttered, trying to appear indifferent, but the way his voice shook and the way he shifted uncomfortably betrayed him.

"Please?" her voice grew soft, serious, as she moved her hand to stroke across his arm and the new scars that she hadn't been able to bring herself to ask about yet. "We can't push each other away again."

Michael visibly tensed under her touch, and a contemplative look crossed his face as if considering the risks of what he was going to tell her. "Fine...fuck, okay. You know I can't resist those eyes," he growled in defeat. "Okay...about a month ago, just before you guys came back the first time, Trevor found out about...well, you can guess. I went back up to Ludendorff to try and stop him and we nearly killed each other before these Chinese guys showed up outta nowhere. People that are pissed at Trevor, of course," he laughed bitterly. "Next thing I know, Trevor fucks off and the guys take _me_ instead and then I'm back in Los Santos hanging from a fuckin' meat hook..."

Amanda's eyes started to widen in horror. "Oh…" was all she could manage to say. "Oh, Michael…"

"I can stop if you want…" he said in a raspy voice, unable to form any words of comfort because he couldn't even comfort himself from it.

She swallowed hard, trying to blink back tears, before saying, "Tell me."

He hadn't quite expected her to say yes, so he just sighed for a moment as he thought back on the awful memories. "Alright, shit... I was only there for a few days, but it was fuckin' horrible, 'Mand…" he said, voice cracking. "They stabbed me...they beat me...constant fucking pain day in, day out. Twenty-four-seven fucking torture…" he said shakily, trying to blink away the moisture in his eyes. "They were about to kill me before I managed to escape, thank God…"

"Michael...I'm so sorry," she whispered. "Maybe if I was still here before this happened-"

He wiped away the tears streaming down her cheeks as he shook his head. "I'm glad you weren't," he interrupted her. "There's no telling what they could have done to you."

She just nodded, knowing how much he'd blame himself if she or the kids had gotten hurt instead. "I'm sorry," she repeated, fingers lightly traveling over those new scars.

"Don't be. I probably deserved it," he tried to laugh it off. "Besides, I realized something in there when I thought I was never gonna see you again. I realized that I wanted to make...I don't know... a go of things, you know? To get you guys back and really make it _work_ this time," he said, smiling weakly at her.

She smiled back at him, and allowed her hand to wander over to his chest to feel his heart thumping beneath his shirt. It was the only way to assure her that he was okay, that he'd been beaten and tortured, but he was _alive_. They were stronger than the things that had nearly destroyed them and they would make things better this time. Before she knew it, she had blurted out something that she hadn't said in a long time, not even after they'd gotten back together a month ago: "Hey...I...I love you, Michael."

For the first time in the night, a genuine grin crossed Michael's face. "I love you, too," he said before joining her in laying down on the bed. "On second thought, I think I am gonna get some sleep. Good night, sweetheart."

She sighed happily and shut her eyes, a goofy, relieved smile plastered on her face. "Good night, darling."

For once, they both fell asleep quickly, and slept soundly for the rest of the night; their nightmares and fears replaced by the hope that everything would work out in the end.


	4. Chapter 4

_Sorry about the delay on this chapter! It ended up being a lot longer than I expected and taking a little longer because of it. This chapter involves Michael and Amanda trying to have a little bit of fun and having a few drunk shenanigans after the hard few months they've had ;)_ _Enjoy!_

* * *

She was just starting to zip up the back of her dress when Michael walked into the bedroom. He let out a low whistle when he caught sight of her in the vanity mirror. "Damn, Mandy, when did you get that?" he asked, gesturing to the short black dress she had on.

"The other day, when I was out with Tracey. You like it?" she asked, turning around to see an eager smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. That was all she needed. "Good. Now...be a dear and zip me up?"

Michael happily obliged, his normally steady hands shaking as he finished zipping up her dress. Amanda nervously looked at herself in the vanity and applied another coat of lipstick, trying to distract herself from his hands lingering on her back. "How do I look?" she asked, meeting his eyes in the mirror.

"Great, as always," he said, smiling reassuringly at her and allowing his eyes to wander along her. She'd always been too good-looking for him to ever deserve, but ever since the luxury and fashion of Los Santos had taken hold of her, he found her even more beautiful. That expensive black dress, the red lipstick, those blue eyes staring back at him through smoky makeup...all of it was so different from the leather and lingerie of North Yankton. In short: she looked fucking _amazing_.

Amanda tucked a lock of curly hair behind her ear, frowning at her reflection. "Great as in 'okay' or great as in I'm a middle-aged mom trying too hard?"

"Great as in you look as good as the day we met," he said, pausing for a second before adding, "Only with slightly more clothing."

She slapped his arm playfully. "Oh, screw you, Michael," she said, all of the venom in her comment lost in her laugh. "I don't want to be _too_ overdressed."

"It's a Saturday night and we live in _Los Santos_ , baby," he reminded her. "The whole bar will be filled with couples like us trying to relive their past. I think being overdressed is the least of your worries…"

"Maybe you're right…" she conceded. For a moment, they were twenty again and getting ready for a night out at the bar. Amanda smiled slightly as she remembered those few months of partying with Michael until they both passed out at four in the morning from a combination of too much coke, alcohol, and sex. She remembered never being more in love than she had been in those months.

Michael hesitantly ran his hands up and down her bare arms before they settled on her shoulders. "I...I want tonight to be fun, Amanda. Shit...after last night, both of us need it," he said softly, blue eyes piercing hers. "Have a drink tonight, babe. Hell, have three or four. Just _have fun._ "

She turned around to give him a quick kiss, feeling his insecurities melt under her lips. "Don't look so worried, babe…" she smirked at him. "Tonight's gonna be great."

* * *

Michael anxiously sipped from his mug of beer. It had been his idea to go out in the first place, to ease their minds after the nightmares of the previous night. _It'll be fun, babe,_ he'd told her, but now he wasn't so sure as he looked around at all of the other couples in the bar. The husbands all looked...listless. Empty, devoid of any emotion as they drank heavily and their wives flirted with anyone but them. It made him tug at the tie around his neck nervously and turn to Amanda, who was drinking from her own glass of wine.

"Honey, I need you to promise me something, it's really important…" he whispered in her ear.

"Yeah?" she asked, an eyebrow raised in amusement.

"If we ever become as boring as these fuckin' guys," he said, gesturing over to the miserable couples. "If we ever get to the point of doing the crossword every morning and wearing matching sweaters and shit, I want you to take me outside, throw me in the pool, and hold me down 'til I stop kicking."

Amanda just laughed against the rim of her glass. "Deal." Her eyes started to wander along the crowded bar, uninterested except for one thing that caught her eye. "Aw, it's karaoke night! You gonna sing again, darling?" she asked teasingly.

"That was _one time_ , Mandy, and it was almost ten years ago," he muttered sheepishly. "When are you gonna let it go?"

"Until it stops being funny...so never," she smirked, earning an eye roll from him. She patted his arm reassuringly to keep him from pouting too much. "You rocked the hell out of that Phil Collins song, babe."

He raised his glass at her with a triumphant glint in his eyes. "Damn right I did."

* * *

Maybe she'd been drinking a bit more than she'd promised. She only realized this as she stared at him, at the broadness of his shoulders and the way his muscles showed through the sleeves of his suit. _Is he thinner…?_ she wondered hazily. _He looks thinner...shit, he looks good…_

She became so wrapped up in her daze that she didn't notice him trying to get her attention until his his hand waved in front of her face. "Amanda?"

"W-what?" she finally managed to say, mentally cursing when she noticed the slur of her voice.

"I've been trying to get your attention for about five minutes now," Michael laughed. "...but I wanted to ask: exactly how much _have_ you drank tonight?"

Amanda honestly wasn't sure herself. She looked down at her husband's own drink, and realized that he was only on his second compared to her fourth (or was it fifth?) and was nowhere near as tipsy as she was.

"Uh...let's see…" she muttered thoughtfully, fingers absentmindedly tracing along the rim of her glass. " _Well..._ I had a couple glasses of pinot and then some downers to go with that. And a shot or two of _tequila_...oh, and I drank a little bit of your beer while you were in the bathroom…"

"Hey!" he protested, pulling his own drink closer to him protectively. Well, that _did_ explain the lipstick stain on it... "Be careful, 'Mand, or I'm gonna have to cut you off," he warned, teasingly dragging her wine glass away from her.

"Nooo…" she whimpered pathetically, trying to take it back. "I'm having _fun_ , Michael. Let me have _fun_."

He hesitantly gave it back to her, much to her happiness. "Alright, fine-" he started before a booming voice cut him off.

"Well, well, well... look who it is!"

"Oh, shit…" Michael said under his breath before turning his barstool around to face none other than Trevor Philips. "Hey, T…"

"Mikey," Trevor greeted shortly. He had to do a double take when he saw Amanda, his eyes slowly and uncomfortably wandering along her body. "Why, hello, Amanda…"

She had just opened her mouth to scream at him, partly because of that look and partly because of what happened between him and Michael in North Yankton, but Michael quickly kissed her, his lips cutting off any protests she could make. "Play nice," he whispered in her ear after he pulled away.

So she did. She put on a painfully forced, faux smile and gripped the stem of her glass harder as she tried to not let her emotions get the best of her.

Trevor raised his eyebrows at that but opted not to comment, instead just watching them closely. "Aren't you two just the picture of domestic bliss?" he said of their interlocked hands and smiles at each other.

"Ah, we try to be," Michael said before saying what was all on their minds, "So, uh, not that I'm not glad to see you, but...what _are_ you doing here? Fancy bars like this really ain't your scene…"

"Business, Michael. Business," Trevor said, gesturing wildly to the bar behind them. It was then that she noticed that he was actually wearing a suit instead of his usual messy clothes, and realized that she hadn't seen him in one since her and Michael's wedding almost twenty-three years ago. "Turns out rich fucks like you two _love_ to get high to escape their miserable lives. Uh, no offense to you or the lovely Amanda, of course."

Amanda scoffed as she took another drink. "Right, because when have you ever meant offense, Trevor?" she said sarcastically.

"Feisty as always, Mandy," Trevor noted, sitting down at the empty barstool next to Michael. "And just a little bit drunk."

"I'm _not_ drunk…" she tried to protest, even though the slur of her voice and nearly empty drink made it clear that she was _very_ obviously drunk.

Trevor laughed, making her cheeks grow red in irritation. Even Michael, who had tried to stay neutral in their usual bickering, let out a small chuckle. "Fuck _both_ of you," she managed to say through the heaviness of her tongue. She got up, wine glass in hand, and glanced over to the karaoke machine that they were talking about earlier, where other drunk girls were making fools out of themselves. "I'll be back."

* * *

"You ain't gonna go after her?" Trevor asked as they watched Amanda stumble off to do God only knew what.

"Nah, it's fine. It's been a good few days so far, she was bound to get pissed at me for something," Michael laughed. "So, uh, what have you been doing ever since...you know?"

"Oh, the usual...being the CEO of a multimillion dollar corporation…" Trevor said arrogantly before ordering a drink, making sure to tell the bartender to put it on Michael's tab. "And how is the second act of your life going?"

"A lot better than I thought, actually. I'm not gonna lie, I still got a long way to go with Amanda and the kids…" he admitted, staring down at his drink. "I wasn't there as much as I should've been when they were growing up and I got a lot of making up to do...but I think we're gonna be alright."

"That's great and all, Mike, but...won't you miss it all?" Trevor asked. "You're a man of _action_ , of fast cars and guns and explosions, not couches and staring at fucking sunsets!"

Michael just shrugged. "I dunno...I probably will, but I've spent the last twenty-two years caring about two things at once, Trevor. I'm _tired_ of it. I really wanted that other stuff, too, but I want to be a good dad, love my family, live the dream and all of that. I guess...sometimes you gotta decide what you're gonna keep," he said, looking over to Amanda longingly before back to Trevor. "And what you're gonna let go."

Trevor looked at him in barely concealed shock as he took a drink from his cheap Pisswasser. "Wow...that is probably the most mature thing I've ever heard you say, Mikey. These last few months have really made you grow up, eh?"

"Yeah, I guess they have," he said with a soft smile. At least those few months were good for something other than being miserable all of the time. "Listen, T...about what happened in North Yankton-"

Trevor waved dismissively, cutting him off. "Let's not talk about it. I'd say you've had your fair share of karma lately, and, well...what's the fun in killing you if I can't make fun of you anymore?" he said, earning an uneasy laugh from Michael. "You may be a fat, self-loathing asshole, Mikey, but you're _our_ fat, self-loathing asshole."

Michael could barely hide his surprise. "That might be the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me. I'm almost...happy? Eh, feels weird…"

"Don't get too mushy on me, alright? Might have to punch you to shut you up," Trevor warned, cracking his knuckles.

"Ah, knew you being nice was too good to be true…" Michael muttered, sipping from his drink.

They had just lapsed into silence when he heard the thumping of an awful pop song that he vaguely recognized from ten years ago start. Michael had started to tune it out as another horrible product of karaoke night when Trevor roughly grabbed him by the shoulder and turned him around. "I think you need to see this…"

Michael's eyes widened in horror at the sight he was met with: a very drunk Amanda holding the microphone and grinning a little _too_ seductively at him. "I gotta stop her…" he said, starting to get up before Trevor held him back.

"Let her," Trevor said. "She won't even remember this in the morning."

Michael halfheartedly struggled against him. "No, T, you don't understand. When Amanda gets drunk and does this, she doesn't just sing. She fuckin' _performs_."

By the time that he managed to break free of Trevor's grip and get close to the small stage, it was too late. She had already started, nailing every word from a song from 2003. "Baby, can't you see I'm calling? A guy like you should wear a warning…" Amanda sang, slurring the words just a little bit. It was then that he finally recognized the song, one that she loved to tease him about all those years ago. _Definitely a song we used to have sex to._ "It's dangerous...I'm fallin'..."

Her eyes stared directly into his, full of excitement and want, as she sang. He admittedly got a little distracted by those blue eyes, and had tuned out until she stumbled dangerously close to him. "...I need a hit, baby, give me it. You're dangerous...I'm _lovin'_ it…" She grabbed the blushing and not-even-drunk Michael by the collar of his jacket and tilted his face up to hers with a smile that made his knees go weak.

He watched her in shock, embarrassment, and the slightest bit of awe. For a second, they were young again and she was performing for him at the club. Well, it had been a strip club back then and not a fancy bar...but it still gave him the same reaction as it did twenty years ago.

She continued, and he'd missed a little bit more of the song before he came to his senses for the second time. "With a taste of your lips I'm on a ride...You're toxic, I'm slipping under…" she sang. She must have been trying to destroy any semblance of indifference he had left. With the entirety of the bar watching, she winked at him and slid a strap of her dress down her shoulder, not taking her eyes off of him the whole time. "With a taste of a poison paradise, I'm addicted to you...don't you know that you're toxic? And I love what you do, don't you know that you're toxic?"

As she finished the verse, Michael finally managed to regain what little composure he had left. "I...I need a fuckin' drink…" he muttered, quickly pushing through the crowd back to the bar with his wife's singing thumping in his ears.

* * *

He was _definitely_ as drunk as she was now. He numbly realized this as they drunkenly made out in the alleyway outside the bar. A few glasses of whiskey and a couple shots of vodka later, he'd stumbled over to Amanda, who he hadn't talked to since her little performance. A few charming smiles and drunken compliments later, they'd made up and managed to leave Trevor's line of sight for a minute to go outside...and now they were here; with her pinned between the wall and his body as they sloppily kissed each other.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you…" she murmured in between kisses, running her hands through his hair that was already messy from Amanda rubbing alcohol into it all night. "It's just... _God_...that man gets on my fucking nerves. He almost got you killed back in Yankton, and then he'll just use that wounded childhood bullshit like always! We _all_ had shitty childhoods, and most of us don't act like that asshole. Fuck him…"

"Relax, babe..." Michael said lazily. His lips dragged across her neck as he tried to distract himself from that cute high-pitched voice she got whenever she got drunk. "T and I are over it now...uh, _mostly_ over it…"

"Well, _that's_ reassuring…" Amanda muttered sarcastically. She ran her hands over his shoulders and down his chest, panting heavily and not taking her eyes off of his lips the whole time. "Whatever, screw him. Just kiss me."

He happily obliged, moving his lips back up to hers. They kissed, putting an end to the flirtatious glances and coy smiles they'd been giving each other all night. All of the hesitance and insecurity they'd had the last few days was gone, the two of them only focusing on the way their tongues rediscovered each other's mouths and the way their hands wandered along each other's bodies.

"Did...did you like my song?" Amanda slurred during one their quick breaks for air. "I did it for you 'cause I know you liked it back then...and I wanted to get your attention…"

Michael nodded a little too eagerly. "You were fuckin'...fuckin' _amazing_ , babe…" he mumbled reassuringly, smiling at her with blue eyes bright from tipsiness and desire. "Think Britney Spears has some competition…"

Too wasted to think of a clever response, she just smiled at him and grabbed him by the collar so their lips met again. Kissing him gave her a feeling that none of the other guys she'd been with in the last few years did. There was a certain warmth and familiarity that Michael always gave her, something that they'd had even when they'd first started dating. She started kissing him even harder at the realization, earning a sigh of happiness from him.

His hand had just wandered to the hemline of her dress when they heard footsteps coming closer to them, quickly followed by a disgusted scoff of another man.

"Jesus, it's like being friends with a couple of horny teenagers!" Trevor said as he passed by them.

Michael didn't even turn around to face him (or take his hand off of her thigh, for that matter). "Ah, screw you, Trevor. I'll see you later."

"Oh, you better believe it, buddy!" Trevor called out, voice fading as he walked away, leaving them alone yet again.

Michael chuckled a little before he looked back up to her, his eyes asking a silent question that he couldn't bring himself to say between him panting for breath and staring at her in admiration. His hand was practically burning against her bare leg, and it took her a long moment before she could bring herself to respond.

Amanda finally nodded, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek before whispering in his ear, "Take me home."

* * *

After probably scarring their poor cab driver for life with the things that they did in the backseat (Michael made sure to tell him to keep the change once they got dropped off), they were home.

He silently took her hand as they started the long walk from the front gate to the door. Michael fumbled with his keys for a brief moment, and she caught a glimpse of their reflections as he unlocked the door. Him with his mussed hair and her red lipstick smeared on his own lips; her with her messy makeup and slightly wrinkled dress, and gripping his hand and not wanting to let go.

And, for a second, they really were in their twenties again. They'd just gotten done partying all night, or at least until midnight in this case, and he'd taken her home where they'd spend the rest of the night doing everything but sleeping.

Amanda smiled at him once they stepped inside. "You know…" she murmured, putting her hands on his chest and practically shoving him against the wall, making his breath hitch just a little. He was lucky that it was almost pitch black inside so she couldn't see the look on his face when her eyes purposefully wandered up the stairs where their bedroom was. "I had a lot of fun tonight, babe."

"Oh, yeah?" he grinned at her and moved his hands to her waist before leaning in and whispering, "Who says the night's over?"

With that, he promptly picked her up, earning a giggle from her, and started carrying her up the stairs. His lips quickly found the side of her neck and she tilted her head in response, allowing his kisses to travel across the expanse of her skin. They both thanked whatever God that must have been watching over them that they didn't run into either of the kids on their way to the bedroom.

By the time that they made it into the bedroom, she already had his tie and shirt buttons undone while he struggled with the zipper of her dress, muttering about how fucking _tight_ it was and almost tearing it in his haste to undress her.

She glared at him in annoyance. "That was expensive-" she started before he cut her off with a kiss.

" _Relax_ , it's not like we can't afford another one," he said. "And don't act like you didn't buy it for me to take it off."

He _did_ have her there, so she just sighed in faux annoyance as she allowed him to set her on the bed and toss the dress aside. That annoyance quickly faded once she saw him flash that stupidly attractive smile down at her. After that, all she could do was quickly undo his belt and toss it aside before hooking her fingers through the now-empty loops and pull him closer.

She could barely manage to work his pants off of his hips between the way he was still kissing at her neck and how his hips started to impatiently move against hers. "Someone's excited…" Amanda managed to gasp out.

He didn't respond, but the look on his face told her enough. Strong hands made easy work of the blue lingerie that she'd worn especially for him (he'd stayed silent, but she had definitely noticed the appreciative smile he'd cracked).

Her hands wandered along his abdomen and the old and new scars there, earning a shiver from him. "Goddamn…" Michael muttered against her skin, allowing his lips to tortuously wander down along her body until he finally, mercifully put his head between her thighs.

Amanda couldn't help but moan as she felt his mouth meet her skin, felt his tongue skillfully flick against her. She grabbed him by the hair, pulling him even closer as he continued.

Of all of the things that she had missed about being with Michael, the way that he went down on her was by far one of the things she'd missed the most. The rare times they'd had sex before they'd gotten back together, they usually skipped the foreplay entirely, as if it was a boring task. Between the way that she was feeling now and the fact that he was so _damn_ good at it, she couldn't believe that she ever rejected it.

Not once did he take his mouth off of her or pause for even a second; he was dedicated to this. And sure enough, it paid off. Before long, he had sent her over the edge, and she was moaning his name and tugging at his hair even harder as she finished.

If it bothered or hurt him, he didn't care. He just wiped his mouth, panting, and smiled at her as he waited for her to catch her breath.

She recovered quickly enough, breathing heavily as her eyes flickered down to the opening of his boxers. "Do...do you want me to…?" she managed to ask.

Michael shook his head, and brushed the strands of hair away from his forehead as he waited for her to fully regain her energy. "I...I missed this, 'Manda…" he whispered once she did, staring down at her in admiration. "I missed _you_."

"I missed you, too," she murmured before taking his face in his hands and kissing him. She could feel him smile against the kiss, giving him encouragement to move inside of her.

It was a little slower than usual, but it was as loving and passionate as the day they'd met each other, back when they were young and in love. One of her hands moved up to wrap around the back of his neck, the other clutched in the bed sheets as she whispered compliments in his ear, like how all of the other guys didn't even compare to him, how good he was, how much she loved him.

Michael only got more encouraged by her, keeping his pace until her words became incoherent moans. His lips roamed around her body; on her neck, her jawline, anywhere he could kiss.

Soon enough, she found herself in desperate need of release. "Michael…" she moaned out, but he was too drunk and too distracted to notice her until she took his face in her hands and said, "Kiss me."

Both of them were a little out of it, and the kisses went off of each other's lips a couple times, but the intensity of it was undeniable. Finally, he picked up his pace a little, just enough to make her lose herself.

Amanda, too caught up in her own climax and the sound of her own moans filling the room, didn't even notice Michael finish until he practically collapsed next to her on the bed, panting. "Fuckin' _amazing_ as always, Mandy…" he breathed out.

She smiled at him and pressed herself against him as she sighed in happiness. _Best night at the bar ever_ , she thought. "So…" she started, trailing her fingers along his chest. "You still up for more, darling?"

Michael moved on top of her with a renewed energy, giving her a cocky smirk. "Oh, I can do this all night…"

* * *

 _A/N: The song that Amanda sings was "Toxic" by Britney Spears, as some of you may be familiar with! (And that karaoke may or may not come back into play next chapter ;)_


	5. Chapter 5

_Back with another chapter! This one ended up being a lot longer than I expected, but it's a fun one! In this one, the consequences of their drunken night come back to haunt them in the morning… ;D As always, enjoy!_

* * *

The next morning wasn't so pleasant. Neither of them could decide whether it was a punishment for their many, _many_ sins in life or just a result of having too much fun the previous night, but they could both agree on one thing: it was a hangover sent straight from hell.

Amanda, the early riser that she was, had woken up first and was wishing that she hadn't. Without a doubt, it was the worst hangover she'd ever had in her life-even worse than the one she'd had after the first night she'd left Michael, but that wasn't one she liked to talk about. Even the dimmest, most gentle rays of sunlight poking through the curtains made her bury her head into her pillow and groan from her throbbing headache. "Fuck…"

Michael stirred next to her, clutching his head in pain. "Hey, be quiet...I'm trying to self-pity over here..." he muttered weakly. He grabbed his own pillow and put it over his face, moaning. "Oh, fuck me…"

"Not right now, I'm too tired…" she mumbled, voice muffled against the fabric.

He let out a small, weak laugh at that before rolling on his side away from the burning sun. "Ahhh, maybe we really do drink too much…" he admitted through his pillow.

They stayed like that for a while, regretting their drinking and lamenting the fact that they were not in their twenties anymore and didn't have hangovers that lasted only half an hour, until she finally managed to sit up with her head still in her hands.

She groaned internally when she caught sight of her reflection in the vanity mirror. Her hair was a tangled mess (she blamed Michael for that; he loved running his hands through her hair), the remnants of her makeup were smeared and ruined, and the only thing that she was wearing was her husband's button-up from last night.

Still, she couldn't help but let a small smile cross her face as she stared at their clothes littering their floor, at Michael curled up next to her. Last night had been the most fun she'd in months, the most fun she'd had in the last few _years_ even...

Michael turned around to face her, that _stupidly_ attractive smirk that always made her blush (like right now) forming on his face when he noticed her staring at him. A contemplative look briefly crossed his face before he hesitantly grabbed her hand and looked up at her with a nervous, boyish smile that gave her flashbacks to the early '90s. "So, uh…" he stuttered. "About last night…"

Amanda stroked his disheveled hair with her free hand, earning a content hum from her husband. "What about it?" she asked as she threaded her fingers through the soft, dark strands.

He shifted uncomfortably and was radiating insecurity as he asked, "I mean...was it fun? I...I don't know...maybe I wasn't as good as-"

"Oh my God, no, no!" she immediately cut him off and kissed him on the cheek lightly before he could protest. "Last night was amazing, babe…" she said reassuringly, taking one of his cheeks in her hand. " _You_ were amazing."

He relaxed under her touch and let out a deep sigh of relief, one that he had been holding in since they'd left for the bar the previous night. "Good...that's good…" he said with a soft smile. "You're still the fuckin' best, by the way…"

"Thanks, darling." She gripped his hand reassuringly again before something on the nightstand caught her eye. "Oh, look, I left myself a little present last night…" she said happily, gesturing to the glass of water on her nightstand. She gratefully chugged it, but it wasn't long before she broke down coughing and gagging.

"Baby, are you okay?" he quickly asked, his hands flying protectively up to her shoulders.

Through her coughs and the tears streaming down her face, she could only manage a faint nod. "It...it was...vodka…" she finally spluttered.

Michael immediately burst out laughing and the glare she shot him through her tear-filled eyes did nothing to stop him. "I'm sorry, babe…" he laughed, clapping a hand over his mouth. "...but past you is an asshole."

After a long few moments, she caught her breath despite the burning in her throat and the awful taste of vodka in her mouth. "Yeah, she is…" Amanda breathed out.

He was still laughing even as he sat up and started to get out of bed. Her arm moved up to wrap around his midsection, fingers delicately running over muscles of his abdomen as she tried to pull him back into bed. _Stay_ , she silently pleaded.

Michael gently took her hand in his and pried it away from his stomach. "Would love to take you up on your offer but I gotta go shower…" he said regretfully, starting to stand up before her hand reached up and playfully slapped him across his ass. "Oh…" he managed to chuckle sheepishly.

She giggled at his nervousness and the blush that was rapidly spreading up his face and grinned over at him. "Twenty-two years and we still got it, babe!" she called out from the bed.

"Fuckin' A right we do!" he said triumphantly as he headed into their bathroom, walking with a confidence that she hadn't seen in a long time.

Amanda smiled weakly at that confidence before she had to collapse back down on the bed between a combination of the glass of vodka hitting her and the hangover coming straight back. She buried her face back into the bedsheets, trying to chase away the headache.

She sighed, shutting her eyes and lingering on the edge of unconsciousness until Michael came back from the bathroom, hair damp from the shower and looking a thousand times better than she did right now.

He shot her a small smile before leaning down to find his suit jacket from the previous night and fish his car keys from his pocket.

"Where are you going?" she groaned from the bed.

"I need to go pick up my car from the bar. It's only a few blocks away and...uh, I could use the exercise to burn off all the alcohol…" he explained with a self-deprecating laugh. "I won't be gone long, hon."

She frowned at him for a moment before sighing in defeat. "...fine," she finally said. "Just...be back soon? I need _someone_ to complain about this hangover with…"

Michael walked over to the bed and gave her a light kiss on the forehead. "Of course. And you should shower, babe, you'll feel a lot better afterward," he suggested, brushing a few stray strands of her away from her face.

"Maybe…" she mumbled, snuggling deeper into the comforter. "If I ever get out of bed…"

He laughed a little before opening the bedroom door. "Alright, well, I'll see you soon. Love you," he said before leaving.

"Love you, too…" she muttered before finally managing to get up and stumble into the bathroom. She barely had enough energy to raise her head to look at herself in the mirror, sighing as she wiped off her ruined makeup. _The morning after the night before,_ she thought bitterly before shedding her shirt and stepping into the shower.

She stood under the warm downpour of water, feeling more tired than ever, before hastily turning it to the coldest setting possible. Michael _always_ swore by cold showers after a night of drinking and she had never believed him. At least, not until now (after she'd gotten used to the initial shock of it).

After the longest, iciest shower of her life, she felt significantly more awake. _Wow, he was actually right for once..._ she mused with a small laugh as she stepped out of the shower. Amanda had just dried off and gotten dressed when she heard Michael call her name.

"Amanda!" he yelled from downstairs. "C'mere!"

Begrudgingly, she trudged down the stairs and into the kitchen where Michael was, greeted by the sight of him sitting at the kitchen table with two Burger Shot bags on either side of him. "I bring hangover cure," he said with a small smile, gesturing to one of the bags and sliding a glass of water in front of her. "I promise you it ain't vodka."

A small laugh escaped her before she swiftly downed a couple painkillers along with the water. A brief glance into her bag made her smile in relief and nostalgia. Cheeseburger and fries, their tried-and-true remedy for bad hangovers. "Thank you, Michael," she whispered, giving him a light kiss. She probably tasted like day-old booze, but he didn't care. Both of them knew it wasn't just a thanks for getting food. It was for trusting each other for the first time in years, for believing in each other after their darkest times. It was for loving each other again.

"Well, shit, if I would have known you'd act like this, I'd do this more often," he said playfully when they pulled away. His smirk still lingered as he watched her tear into the greasy food like a ravenous wolf into its prey. "What happened to your diet, babe?"

"Oh, fuck off, Michael," she mumbled through a mouthful of fries. "I deserve a cheat day after all the shit we've been through."

"Uh-huh, sure, Mandy," Michael said playfully, his hand wandering over to her free hand as he started on his own food.

In the middle of their lunch (or was it brunch? She honestly didn't know what time it was after last night), Jimmy sauntered downstairs. "Wow, you two look like shit," he immediately said. "Rough night, huh?"

"You could say that…" Michael laughed under his breath. "And thanks for raising our self-esteem, kid."

"Anytime, Dad," Jimmy said, unsuccessfully looking through the fridge before sitting down next to Amanda and eyeing her food. "...but everyone knows what you two did last night, anyway."

Michael froze awkwardly mid-bite. He _really_ hoped that he wouldn't be dragged into the whole conversation of thin walls again…"What are you talking about?" he asked instead, trying his best to look nonchalant. Amanda didn't even pause next to him and just kept eating.

"You haven't heard?" Jimmy asked in disbelief. "It's all over Bleeter _and_ Lifeinvader…"

Amanda finally perked up next to him, eyes widening as if recalling some vague memory. " _What_ is?" she asked harshly.

"Oh, shit, you really don't know?" their son asked before pulling out his phone and pulling up a video (it already had thousands of views, they noted). Michael and Amanda watched in horror as the video shakily documented a very drunk Amanda on the karaoke stage of the bar grab the blushing Michael by the collar of his shirt and start to awfully sing. " _With a taste of your lips, I'm on a ride...You're toxic, I'm slippin' under…_ " she'd slurred into the microphone as she slid one of the straps of her dress down her shoulders with a pointed wink at Michael, who just stood there stunned.

Amanda groaned and buried her head into her hands at that, unable to bear her own horrible drunken singing. Of course, she couldn't have just _one_ night of fun without embarrassing herself…

She couldn't help but punch Michael in the arm when the video finally, mercifully ended. "Oh my God, why didn't you _stop_ me?!" she asked angrily.

He seemed just about as shocked as she was. "I _tried_ , babe," he defended himself. "But fuckin' Trevor held me back-"

" _Trevor_ ," she seethed, about to burst with anger as she turned back to Jimmy. "That's who made the video, isn't it?"

"Well, yeah, he was the one who sent it to me-" Jimmy had just started to explain before Amanda interrupted him.

"I'm gonna fucking kill him…" she growled before swiftly swiping Michael's phone from his hands, pulling up Trevor's contact, and calling him.

Trevor answered on the second ring. "Ah, Mike, I was just thinking about you-"

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Amanda immediately yelled into the phone, her shout loud enough to make even Michael flinch.

"Ooh, someone's a little grumpy today…" Trevor laughed through the phone. "Hangover getting to you, Amanda?"

She ran her hand down her face in frustration. "Not funny, Trevor. I know you uploaded that stupid video…"

"Yup," Trevor said shortly. "And your point with all of this is…?"

" _Delete_ it right now," she snapped. She had spent _years_ trying to live up to the stereotype of the perfect Rockford Hills wife and she'd be damned if one drunken karaoke song ruined that…

He laughed again, and she could practically see the shit-eating grin on his face. "Why would I if it's making me _sooo_ popular on that shithole you call Lifeinvader?" he asked, sarcasm oozing from his voice. "Plus, I heard you make some rather not nice comments about me outside the bar last night while you two were busy acting like a couple of teenagers…"

She rolled her eyes, not feeling the least bit sorry for the things she said. "I don't care. It's embarrassing-"

"Ah, you see, that's something you and Michael just don't get," Trevor interrupted her. "You two only care about what other people think of you and not about having some fucking _fun_ once in a while _._ Ten years in the sun and your brains have _melted_ , along with your sense of humor, too, apparently."

Her fingers curled tightly around the phone and her voice shook slightly as she spat out, "Fuck you, Trevor."

"When and where, Mandy? When and where?" Trevor mocked.

It was then that the red mist descended and she was yelling at him before she could stop herself. "Oh, you motherfu-"

Amanda barely made it halfway through her curse before Michael grabbed the phone out of her hand. "Let me handle this," he mouthed before putting the phone to his ear and walking outside. "Hey, T…"

She drowned her sorrows in the rest of her food while Michael was no doubt performing negotiations and barely raised her head when he came back inside. "Well?" she asked anxiously.

"He'll delete it," Michael said. The sigh of relief that she managed was quickly cut short by the next thing he said. "...on one condition."

* * *

"This is ridiculous…" Amanda muttered as she tightened her ponytail and sighing as she twirled her tennis racket in her hand.

"Hey, you want the video deleted, this is the only he's gonna do it," Michael said, watching as his wife practiced with their new tennis ball launcher (no more private coaches for her). "It's just one tennis game, 'Mand. And you'll kick his ass, babe, so relax."

"I guess…" she said unsurely, about to say something before she heard a truck roaring into their driveway.

"That must be him…" Michael said before standing up and resting his hands on her shoulders reassuringly. "Don't let him get to you, alright?"

She nodded, smiling softly at him and kissing his cheek lightly. "I'll be fine."

He smiled back at her, eyes staring lovingly into hers, and was just about to lean in before Trevor sauntered over, dressed in the most awful tennis outfit she'd ever seen: a dirty polo, shorts that were shorter than her own, and _was that a headband_...? "Mikey!" he greeted warmly, (or as warmly as Trevor _could_ ) clapping Michael on the shoulder before turning to her and frowning at her. "Amanda."

"Trevor," she greeted shortly, the aggression between them evident. What she'd really like to do was rip the phone straight out of his hands, but she knew that it obviously wouldn't go over well.

Michael quickly broke the passive aggressive silence. "So, you gonna play or just stand around?" he asked, shifting impatiently on his feet.

Trevor turned around to face her, a devilish grin on his face. "Let's play."

* * *

"Mikey!" Trevor barked out, impatiently spinning his tennis racket in his hand. "What are the rules?"

Michael sighed from his chair on the sidelines. "T, you know what the rules to tennis are…" he drawled out lazily, but the look on Trevor's face told him that it wasn't enough. "Fine...shit, okay. One game, first to get to whatever-the-fuck points wins. Amanda wins, you delete the video. You win, the video stays."

"Thank you, Mike," Trevor said before turning to Amanda. "Ladies first," he said, gesturing to the tennis ball in her hand.

She served it, silent except for the small sigh of irritation that escaped her. It must have been a little more aggressive than she had anticipated, and Trevor had to practically sprint for the tennis ball.

"Ooh, you always were a feisty one," he called out. "Remember that routine with the snake?"

"One more word and you'll see a routine with my racket around your head," Amanda snapped, hitting the ball back to him.

"Leave her alone, Trevor," Michael warned from his spot.

"I thought you weren't supposed to take sides this time, M?" Trevor asked, growling angrily as Amanda won their seemingly endless rally.

"I'm _not_ ," Michael defended himself. "I'm just trying to keep you two from killing each other and getting blood on my tennis court. Shit's expensive, T."

"Whatever you say, Mike," Trevor said, a cruel smirk forming on his face as he turned back to Amanda. "Just like old times, eh, old girl? You and I actually doing things, Michael sitting there like a useless shit…"

"Hey, fuck you!" Michael called out. "You know what? I'm on her side now!" he yelled, much to Trevor's dismay

Michael admittedly started to zone out a little bit, Trevor and Amanda's bickering just distant hums in his ears as he thought about almost everything but tennis. Still, he smiled slightly as he watched his wife, at her confidence and blind determination to win. The game was close, that much he knew, but he could tell that she was in the lead.

Trevor's shout brought him back from his daze. "Earth to Mikey!" he said mockingly. "What's the score?"

"Uh, fuck, I don't even know…" Michael muttered, running a hand through his hair in confusion. "I'm exhausted just lookin' at you two...I'll tell you what: whoever gets the next point wins."

That instantly perked both of them up, and they went into full competitive mode-as if they weren't already-and glared at each other as Amanda served the ball and they started the endless juggle of hitting it back and forth.

It was, without a doubt, the most intense thing Michael had ever seen (and he'd been in more gunfights than he could count) Hell, even Trevor was silent as he hit the ball back…

After a while, Michael had lost count of time and had resorted to watching in awe. Eventually, finally, Trevor hit it way far out of Amanda's reach and stood back with a smug smirk and arms crossed over his chest as if celebrating his premature victory.

What neither of them expected next was Amanda diving down and barely managing to hit the ball past the very surprised Trevor, who was now mourning his loss. Michael immediately stood up, grinning, and helped her get up. "Fuckin' good job, babe," he congratulated her eagerly.

"My most sincere congratulations," Trevor muttered, hanging his head in disappointment.

Amanda tossed her tennis racket and crossed her arms, glaring at Trevor. "Alright. You know what we agreed to," she said coldly.

"All in due time, Mandy. But first…" Trevor said before grabbing her, much to her disgust and shock, and hefting her over his shoulder. "First we go on a little victory tour."

"Put me the fuck down, asshole!" she yelled as he lifted her up as if she weighed no more than a feather.

Michael immediately stood in front of him, fists clenched at his side. "Hey, you better let her go, bro-" he started to growl before Trevor lightly shoved him aside.

" _Relax_ , Mike. I'll take good care of her…" Trevor said as he started to carry her towards the backyard.

Amanda, meanwhile, was busy punching at wherever her fists could land. "I _swear to God_ , I will rip your head clean off your shoulders…" she warned.

Michael hesitantly followed them, debating on whether or not he should punch Trevor until they reached the pool. He had barely opened his mouth to protest before Trevor promptly lifted Amanda over the pool and dropped-or threw, more like-her in.

Almost instantly, she came up, coughing and spluttering, but most of all she was angry as _hell_. She wiped the water away from her eyes and looked about ready to explode from rage when she glared up at Trevor. Michael could see her free hand clenched into a fist under the water as she pointed up at the psychopath and snapped, " _Delete_ it."

"Of course," Trevor said before pulling out his phone, making sure that the couple saw him delete it from Lifeinvader, Bleeter, and finally his phone. "I'm a man of my word! I'll see you two around; let's do it again!" he called out, walking away towards his car and leaving Michael to deal with the soaked, very pissed off Amanda.

"C'mon, hon…" he said as he hauled her out of the pool. He sat next to her by the edge of the pool, trying to ignore the water that she was dripping on him. "Fuckin' A...I'm glad that's over with…"

"You're telling me…" she sighed and tried to wring the water from her hair and shirt. _Fucking Trevor_ , she thought bitterly. She quickly gave up on the hopeless endeavor of drying herself off. "Ugh, I need another shower now…" she muttered, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before getting up.

"Alright," Michael smiled awkwardly at her while she turned around and started for the door.

She turned around as soon as she realized that he wasn't following her. "Aren't you gonna join me, Michael?" she asked expectantly.

He almost fell into the damn pool himself in his haste to get up and follow her into the house. "Oh, yeah, of course, babe…"


	6. Chapter 6

_To start: I am so sorry that it's been so long since an update! The past few months have been absolutely crazy between school and work, but it's summer now and I can go back to (semi) regular updates! I can't say how much the support means to me even though I haven't uploaded in a really long time, but it's been amazing. Enough about me, though; the chapter picks right back up the day after the last, and involves Michael going back to work at the studio. Enjoy :D_

* * *

"Come on, darling, can't you stay just a _little_ bit longer?" Amanda drawled out, her red manicured nails trailing up and down his arm. Her other hand was wrapped around his bicep in an almost death grip, and her lips were lightly brushing against his ear when she whispered, "We were just starting to have _fun…_ "

Michael looked like he was having an existential crisis. Ever since that drunken Saturday night, they could barely keep their hands off each other, but right now it was proving to be more of a curse than a blessing. "Honey, it's Monday, and I, uhm, _fuck…_ " he stammered, distracted by the way her mouth had wandered down to his jaw and had started pressing intoxicating kisses against it. "Y'know I have a real job now. Monday to Friday, 9-5 and all that shit…"

"Mmm, you've broken the rules before…" she said, voice muffled against his skin.

"Before I had things to lose. You included," he said softly. "This job is _good_ for me, 'Mand. For _us_. And Solomon's already on me for missing the movie premiere and all of last week while I, uh, tidied things up, so…"

With a defeated sigh, she flopped back down onto the bed, pouting. "Fine, hotshot. Go," she muttered, reaching up to pat him on the shoulder.

He stood at the edge of the bed hesitantly, tempted to jump right back in. "You sure? I mean, he won't really care if I'm fifteen minutes late, and I know the kids won't be back for a couple of hours…"

"Babe, it's fine. We can just pick up right where we left off," she said through fluttered lashes before tossing him his shirt. "And I _should_ go talk to some of our neighbors after all that's happened…"

Michael frowned as he buttoned up the shirt. "Why do you need to do that?"

"It's Rockford Hills, Michael. People talk. Me and the kids being gone for two months? You leaving to do God only knows what for weeks? It's already spreading and I have to spin this _somehow_ before our already-shady reputation is ruined _._ Ugh, it's so hard being a homemaker…" she lamented dramatically, burying herself deeper into the comforter. Amanda turned on her side, head in her hands, and smiled at him playfully. "Go. I have work to do, too."

"Alright," he laughed while he finished getting dressed. _Keeping up appearances like always,_ he thought. With a teasing smirk, he leaned down and gave her a kiss goodbye. Quick and chaste as if to avoid something that might make him end up right back in the bed. "I'll see you later. Love you, darlin'."

"Love you, too."

* * *

"Boss, you know you didn't have to do this…" Michael said, staring down at the office keys in his hand. At _his_ office keys.

In all his life, he'd never thought that he'd have an office that didn't consist of a shitty trailer or even the back room of a strip club, for fuck's sakes.

But here he was, standing in a room that was a million times better than what he'd had in the past. It was just as big, if not a little bigger, than Solomon's office and almost an exact copy of it. Same massive mahogany desk, same movie posters decorating the walls, same windows overlooking the movie studio. The only thing that was missing was the old props everywhere, ones that Michael would no doubt collect in the future.

"Michael, you and I both know that I only have a few more movies left in me," Solomon said. "And why wouldn't I repay my best assistant _and_ investor?"

"It was nothing. I know the whole Union Depository thing messed the market up and I just wanted to help," Michael said nonchalantly. _Well, at least the blood money's being good for something..._

Solomon patted him on the shoulder gratefully. "Well, we have you to thank for Meltdown's sequel," he said happily. Barely a couple weeks had passed since the ill-fated premiere and they were already greenlit for another movie, save for a couple of financial setbacks."I'll tell you what, kid: you take the last few hours to yourself and we'll get you started on the set first thing tomorrow. I know I needed some time to adjust when I got my first office!"

"Really?" Michael asked in disbelief and awe, earning a nod from the older man. "Well, um, shit, thanks, boss. For, uhm, everything."

"Anytime, kid," Solomon said, chuckling as he started to leave. "Glad to have you back."

"Glad to be back," Michael said just before the other man left.

The second the door shut, Michael immediately went over and sat down in the expensive, plush desk chair and allowed a huge grin to spread over his face.

 _I could get used to this..._

* * *

Amanda fiddled with her phone anxiously. _6:50 p.m._ , the large white numbers told her. His first night back at work and he was almost two hours late with not a call or a text back yet. She felt like some teenager checking her phone every two seconds, waiting for a reply from a boy with her mind whirring from possibilities, but the hypotheticals filling her mind were _not_ happy ones.

Some of them were the usual ones; ones of him being hurt or dead or worse, but the others were new and _jealous_. The images played out vividly in her mind: young, pretty actresses flirting with the older, handsome movie producer, trying to get a part…

She shook her head, trying to get those thoughts of her mind. What was a few missed calls, anyway? He could have been busy with a lot of _non-_ pretty-actress related things. Besides that, they'd made a promise, and after how amazing the last couple of nights had been, he _definitely_ wouldn't wanna break it…

Maybe she should just go over there herself to check it out...

Her daydreaming was interrupted by a hand waving in front of her face. "Earth to Mom," Tracey said in irritation. Judging by her annoyance, she'd been trying to get her attention for a while.

"Uh, sorry, what were you saying?" Amanda said, trying to snap out of her husband-filled daze. She looked down at her nearly-full plate and pushed her food around with a sigh. Any appetite she'd once had was ruined by those thoughts...

"You alright?" her daughter asked, gesturing to Amanda's barely-touched food (which Jimmy had begun to eye at this point). "You've been, like, super quiet tonight."

"Yeah, I'm fine," Amanda lied. "Just thinking too much. Not really that hungry, anyways."

Tracey looked at her, unconvinced. "Thinking about what?"

"I don't know...just the usual stuff, like how I'm so pleased we can eat takeout like a real family," she said with a smirk.

"Amen to that…" Jimmy muttered.

"...I really should get going, though…" Amanda said, standing up. "I have, uh, somewhere to be. But this was really nice, kids! I'll see you later!" she called out before heading outside to her car, keys in hand.

She _needed_ to find out; if she didn't, it'd just drive her crazy and make her do something she'd end up regretting.

* * *

He about jumped ten feet out of the chair when she walked in. He'd been slouched over his desk, staring at the papers littering the wood and had almost knocked them over in his surprise. _"_ Oh, hey, babe," Michael said nervously, trying his best to be nonchalant. His hands fiddled with the paperwork, fidgety as he reorganized it. _Well, he's either hiding something or is just being an idiot_ , she deduced. "Not that I'm not glad to see you, but what're you doing here?"

"Can't I visit my husband in his new office?" Amanda asked casually, leaning against the doorway as she looked around the room. _Nice office,_ she thought, smiling slightly when she saw the posters of all of her husband's favorite old movies. "Must be nice if it makes you late for almost two hours..."

Puzzled, Michael glanced over at the clock, and his eyebrows shot up in shock once he got sight of it. "Aw, shit, is that the time? Must've lost track in all this crap…" he laughed shakily, gesturing to the papers. _Meltdown 2,_ she was able to see on one of them. She couldn't help but let a soft smile cross her face as that before the suspicion came over her again. "So…" he started. "How'd the neighborhood gossip go today?"

"Surprisingly well," she laughed. "Managed to get those vultures of housewives off our backs for a while…"

"That's, uh, good at least…" he said, trying to break the tension that she knew he could sense.

"Yeah..." she muttered while walking over to him. She _swore_ if she smelled any semblance of cheap perfume on him, she wouldn't be accountable for her actions…

Slowly, she placed her hands on his shoulders and allowed her arms to wrap around his neck as she leaned closer to him and pressed a light kiss to his lips. Even after she pulled away, she lingered there, praying that she wouldn't catch any trace of another girl as she inhaled his scent.

She sighed in relief once she didn't. Nothing, just the familiar scent of his cologne and the cigarette smoke that grew fainter with each passing day that he smoked less. Quitting smoking-along with drinking, but neither of them couldn't quite fool themselves on that-had been one of the things he'd first promised her when they got back together. Well, aside from not robbing and murdering anymore…

She didn't notice how long she'd been practically on top of him until he stammered out, "Uh, hon, what're you doing?"

"I...I just missed you, that's all," she said, trying to laugh off her awkwardness, and obviously failing by the way that her husband's eyebrows rose in confusion. "Been a long ten hours without you…"

Michael eyed her suspiciously for a moment before a realization spread across his face and his shoulders slumped in dejection. That look alone made her feel like total shit for even considering that he'd be cheating on her again. "You don't trust me yet, do you?"

Amanda immediately tried to backtrack. "No, no, I do, it's just-"

He held up his hand, cutting her off. "No, it's fine. I mean, why would you?" he laughed bitterly, but he still held that same sadness in his eyes. "I'm just the pathetic piece of shit that cheated on you and almost got our entire family killed…"

A sudden kiss to his lips stopped any more protests he could make. A silent agreement formed between then and there: no more distrust, no more misery, just the all-consuming happiness that they'd held for the past five days.

Michael quickly pulled her into his lap, his hands hesitantly resting on her waist while she tried to pour all of the reassurance and love that she could into one kiss. By the time that they had to pull away, their cheeks were flushed and they were both panting for breath, but they were both smiling.

"I'm sorry, darling," she whispered, breath still warm against his lips. "Trust doesn't really come easily to me anymore after all that's happened these past few months, and... _shit_...I don't know, I was just jealous, I guess."

"Jealous of what?" he asked breathlessly. His voice was still a little shaky and his hands hovered a little above her waist as if still unsure, but he still smiled at her a little shyly.

"Are you kidding? I know you're not the best at taking a hint, but Jesus, Michael," she laughed. "You work with all of these young, pretty actresses almost every day and you wonder why I'm jealous?"

"Well, I guess when you put it like that, it makes sense…" he trailed off, scratching at the stubble on his jaw thoughtfully. "I dunno...I guess I haven't really paid much attention to them, 'cause, well, 'cause you're back with me. It's you and me again, babe, just like old times, and I promise you that none of those other girls will get in the way of that, okay?"

"Okay," she said softly, nodding along to his reply and smiling over at him. "So...why _are_ you still here if it's not for, well, you know…?"

"Actually, I was just about to get to that, babe. Uh, well, I was before you kissed me and everything…" he chuckled. He got up, managing to disentangle her from his lap, and pulled a DVD out from his desk and held it up so that she could see it. "They, uh, they gave me a copy of Meltdown since I haven't gotten around to watching it yet, and I was wonderin'...do you wanna watch it with me? Spent the last couple hours trying to get the nerve to do it, but now that you're here…"

She reached over and grabbed his hand, squeezing it in reassurance a couple times. "Of course I will."

He tried to hide it, but she could still hear the sigh of relief that he let out, the happiness on his face as he loaded it into the DVD player by the small TV they'd given him.

Just before he sat back down, he reached down into the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out a bottle of champagne, and had a triumphant smirk as he stood back up. "I know it ain't quite as good as popcorn during a movie, but the boss gave it to me and God knows we could use something to take the edge off."

"Now you're talking, babe," she said happily, settling back onto his lap after he sat back down in that comfy desk chair. "Now, let's get this thing started."

* * *

"So what did you think?" he asked enthusiastically the second the credits started rolling. Throughout the whole two hours of the movie, he'd practically been jumping out of his chair with excitement, partly because of the alcohol they'd polished off within the first hour, mostly because of his own pride.

Amanda, admittedly, hadn't been paying much attention. She'd mostly been paying attention to the alcohol (obviously) and him. To that excited little glint in his eyes whenever he watched movies, that eagerness he practically radiated, that goofy smile stuck to his face. It had always been adorable to her and now wasn't an exception. For her, the most exciting part of the movie had been seeing Michael's name on the screen for five seconds.

She didn't want to crush the poor man by telling him that, though. She hadn't seen him this happy in a long, long time. "I think it was great, babe," she said with a smile. "But, Michael, you have to admit that the ending with the whole monkey thing was...interesting…"

"Oh, I loved it. Actually, the whole talking monkey thing was kinda my idea," Michael said, straightening up and beaming with cockiness and pride.

"Interesting in a good way, darling," she immediately said as she rested her hands on his shoulders and looked at him through fluttered lashes. "You know...you're quite the hotshot movie producer now. A sequel on the way, too…"

Michael blushed under her touch, a rare sight. Despite his apparent flusteredness, he pulled her closer and rested his hands back on her hips. "It's, ah, it's nothing really. I'm still just an associate producer…" he stammered.

"You're more than that to me," she whispered before she leaned in close enough that their lips brushed against each other's. With one hand, she took his chin and tilted his face up to hers, making sure those baby blue eyes stared deep into her own when she said, "I trust you, Michael. I do..."

"I know, darlin'," he murmured just before their lips met.

It was slow, almost chaste even. The delicateness that hung between them was apparent as they kissed, but it quickly shattered as the kiss escalated into something more. His hands traveled from her waist and moved down to grip her hips; hers entangling in his hair as they kissed.

"I'm sorry," she murmured in between kisses.

"Don't be," he panted out, shaking his head. "Just kiss me."

Hands wandered; lips wandered as they made out in his overpriced office chair. Soon enough, one thing led to another and she had his shirt half unbuttoned and her fingers were already tugging lightly at his zipper while his own hands were up her shirt

Before they went any further, he shook his head as if snapping himself out of it and looked at her sheepishly when he said, "You, ah, sure about this? Right here instead of, y'know, at home in an actual bed where we probably won't get caught?"

"Where's the fun in that, darling?" Amanda asked with a teasing smile. "Remember that time at the movie theater about twenty years ago?"

"Uh, yeah. And if I remember it right, we got caught and you were banned from that movie theater for like a year," he said, laughing at a memory of their wilder days. God, one of their kids was probably conceived there…

"And you got off with a warning," she scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"I was their best customer!" he said, holding up his hands defensively, but a smile still tugged at the corners of his mouth. "But my point is that we ain't very subtle."

"Fine," she sighed dramatically and moved to get up. "I guess I'll just go home and go to bed. It is getting kinda late…"

Michael immediately panicked and grabbed her hand, pulling her back into his lap. "'Manda, wait. We'll just be really careful…" he said in a low voice, smirking as he grabbed her by the hips.

"I like the sound of that…" she whispered before wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him into a deep kiss.

Next, it was only a blur of kisses and touches, but before they knew it, her pants were on the floor and his zipper was undone. With one quick sweep of his hand, he swept the papers on his desk crashing to the floor and lifted her onto the empty space.

His hands hungrily roamed under her shirt again, about to lift it over her head, but she put her hands on his chest before he could. "No time," she gasped, going right back to kissing him.

Moments later, she was done with the opening of his boxers and he was pushing himself inside of her. Before she could let out her initial moan, he slipped his tongue in her mouth, cutting her off with a kiss. "We…" he panted out as he rocked into her. "We have to be, ah, really quiet 'cause I-oh, fuckin' _A_ , Mandy-I ain't the only one still working this late…"

She nodded, burying her face into his shoulder to stifle her sighs of pleasure while her husband screwed her a hundred times better than other guy in her life had ever done. Their rhythm was familiar, comforting after all this time. They knew every little detail about each other, from the way a certain spot he kissed on her neck drove her wild, the way he loved when her hips rolled against his.

It made her feel twenty years younger. The feeling of his hands in her hair, the scent of alcohol lingering in the air, the sound of him groaning out her name; all of it made her feel like she was in her twenties again.

"Michael, I, _ah_ , _fuck…_ " she gasped out, words muffled by the fabric of his shirt. "I-I'm gonna…"

His blue eyes brightened in victory, and he leaned down close to ear her to whisper, "Come for me, baby."

And that she did, just a few moments before he did (he had managed to be a lot more subtle than she had). They shut their eyes and caught their breath for a few moments, still coming down from the high. He was still humming in contentment even after he opened his eyes and zipped up his pants.

"Fuckin' amazing-" he had just started to dreamily before footsteps starting approaching frighteningly close and loud outside the door.

Both of them immediately froze, becoming deadly silent as the steps grew closer. Neither of them even dared to move as a small knock thumped at the door.

"Kid?" Solomon called out, voice faint against the door. "You still here?"

Michael's heart was about pounding out of his chest when he replied, "Ah, yeah. Just finishing some things up, boss!" he said with a teasing smirk at Amanda.

"Ah, alright. Just remember to lock up and everything when you're done. Cya tomorrow!" the older man's voice grew quieter and quieter until he was gone.

The couple both let out a deep, relieved breath once the footsteps were out of hearing distance. "Just like old times, huh, babe?" she said, laughing breathlessly.

"Yeah, I guess," he chuckled before pulling her closer. "So...ready for round two, baby?"

She smiled before leaning in for another kiss. "Oh, yeah…"


	7. Chapter 7

_This poor neglected fic is finally coming to an end. I've spent a long time debating on how to end it; I always knew it'd be seven chapters, but could never quite figure out how to wrap it up. I think it turned out pretty okay in the end though! (Hopefully worth the long wait…) Thanks for putting up with my stupidly long waits and enjoy and review as always. (P.S. stay tuned for a new multichapter from me coming in a couple weeks…)_

Michael had happily been asleep before an insistent poking in his side woke him up. _The hell…?_ his groggy mind briefly wondered. One of his eyes briefly opened in curiosity, but the sunlight that burned into it, combined with his already pounding headache, became too much to bear after a few seconds.

 _Fuck it_ , he decided. Maybe if he ignored it, it'd just go away and he could go back to sleep…

It didn't. The poking soon turned into shaking and the shaking turned into a pillow being smacked against the back side of his head. His only reaction was to groan at the annoyance and bury his face into his own pillow.

"Michael, wake up," the frustrated voice of his wife said in between hitting him with the pillow.

Hesitantly, he opened his eye again, if only to look at the alarm clock next to the bed. "What the hell, 'Manda? It's not even 9 in the goddamn morning yet…" he mumbled before closing his eyes and shifting in his nice, warm bed. He'd be damned if the first good night of sleep he'd gotten in months would be ended by Amanda waking him up _way_ too early...

"Well, too bad," she said shortly before leaning in closer to the bed and whispering in his ear, "I have a surprise for you…"

 _Seriously?_ "Not right now, 'Mand. I'm still tired from going at it almost all of last night…" he said, voice still muffled against his pillow.

She scoffed. "It's not that. And so am I, by the way," she said, and he could almost picture that teasing little grin she had on her face. "But it's about the kids."

Admittedly, his first instinct was worry and something along the lines of _"Oh God, what'd they get themselves into this time?"_ before Amanda reassured him that it was "something good."

"So, get your ass dressed and come downstairs, babe," she said before the sound of her footsteps faded and the door quietly shut behind her.

"Shit…" he muttered. Maybe that champagne at the movie studio last night had been a bad idea, along with round two in that tiny office chair...and another one in the car before they'd left…

After a few more minutes convincing himself that he'd finally stop drinking and lamenting the fact that he-despite his denial-was getting old, he managed to drag himself out of bed.. As he shuffled across the room and into the closet, his eyes made sure to avert the mirror. He didn't need any more reminders of the fat, depressed asshole he'd turned into.

Shaking his head and trying to distract himself from those thoughts, he carelessly threw on an old t-shirt and pair of sweatpants and ran a hand through his mussed, spiky-looking hair before thumping down the stairs.

The sight he was met with when he got into the kitchen made him wonder if he was still sleeping and having a _really_ weird dream. The kids were sitting at the kitchen table, looking a thousand times more awake than he did, and Amanda was standing at the stove-a rare enough sight on its own. She smirked at him when she noticed him standing there in a daze. "Hey, babe. Glad to see you managed to get out of bed," she teased.

"Oh, ha, ha," he muttered tiredly before something hit him and immediately perked him up: the intoxicating scent of bacon and eggs wafting through the air. He all but sprinted over to his wife's side to look over her shoulder at the sizzling pans below her. "And what is this, hon?" he asked as he stole a piece of bacon and stuffed it in his mouth before she could react.

"Well, I know it's your favorite, and I kinda figured that you'd need this after last night," she said, laughing softly. "Consider it a 'thank you' for the hangover cure from Sunday."

"God, I love you…" he hummed in contentment, pressing himself closer to her. He placed a kiss to the exposed part of her neck and rested his hands on her hips, obviously distracting her from the task at hand judging by how she nearly dropped the pan in her hand.

"Too tired, huh?" she asked, mocking his words from earlier. "Just go sit down before I mess any of this shit up. I'll be there in a minute."

"Fine," he said, sighing in defeat. He poured himself some coffee (in his "Number One Dad" mug that the kids had gotten him years ago, no less) before joining them at the table. "So, did your mom wake you guys up early, too?"

"Surprisingly, no. We actually had to wake _her_ up," Tracey said with a laugh. "You were still pretty dead to the world, so we didn't bother until now…"

"Well, thanks for that, Trace. Last night was a, er… rough night at the studio," he said, earning a stifled laugh from Amanda in the kitchen. Their kids, however, seemed anything but amused, and Michael became acutely aware that they weren't naive little children anymore. " _So_ , uh, moving on, what do you need to tell me? Your mother made it sound like it's important."

Tracey and Jimmy looked at each other anxiously, shooting glares that seemed to say _"you go first"_ and _"no,_ you _go first"_ as if they were kids again. In the meantime, Michael was happily eating his food and him and Amanda were watching their kids' silent bickering in barely concealed amusement until one of them finally blurted out something:

"I got a job."

Michael nearly spat out his coffee in shock. "You _what?"_

"I got a job," Jimmy repeated, nervously shifting in his chair.

 _Jesus, maybe this really is a dream_ , Michael thought, blinking heavily and even pinching his arm to make sure. When he realized that it wasn't and that _holy shit my son is doing something productive_ , an unspeakable feeling of happiness filled him. "Kid, that's fucking great," he said enthusiatically. "Where at?"

"It's just at the video game shop. I know it's not the best thing, but…" Jimmy muttered.

"Honey, that doesn't matter," Amanda said with a reassuring smile. Her hand moved to Michael's under the table and gripped it comfortingly as she said, "Your father and I are really, _really_ happy for you."

"Thanks, Mom…" Jimmy smiled at her hesitantly, as if a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Michael began to wonder how long he'd been stressing out over this.

"Uh, Jim, can we talk?" he asked, gesturing to the living room and earning a nod from his son. "Just you and me."

The second they stepped foot in the living room and out of earshot of the girls, Jimmy started getting more nervous than he already was. "Listen, Dad, I know you probably wanted me to get a better job-"

Before he could finish his self-deprecation, Michael had him in a short, but tight hug. "I'm so fuckin' proud of you, Jim," he said.

"You are?" Jimmy asked with wide eyes, and suddenly Michael couldn't remember the last time he'd told him it. Years, maybe? He hadn't even said it after Jimmy had saved his ass on the night of the movie premiere because of all of the chaos.

"You kidding me?" Michael said in disbelief, but with still beaming with pride. "Of course I am. You did something that your mom and I could never do: get an actual, responsible job. Hell, you're probably the first one in this family in a few decades to do that."

And then, like father like son, Jimmy told him something he hadn't said in a long time either: "I...I love you, Dad."

"I love you, too, kid," Michael said softly.

"I'm sorry I didn't turn out different…" his son said, staring at the floor regretfully. His methods of self-deprecation may have been inherited from Michael, but his self-esteem issues were all from Amanda.

"Hey, c'mon, don't say that. Because here's the thing about us, Jim, about me, you, your mother, and your sister: we're all screw-ups," he said with a laugh. "But you know what? I wouldn't change anything about our family."

"I wouldn't change you either, Dad. Except maybe I'd make you buy me a car…" Jimmy admitted.

"Alright, okay, hotshot," Michael chuckled. "I'll tell you what: you save enough for half the cost of a car and I'll spot you the other half."

"Really? Okay, um, shit, thanks, Dad," Jimmy said, a smile forming at the corners of his mouth.

"Anytime. Now let's go see what the girls are up to," Michael said, leading the two back into the kitchen where they saw a very happy Amanda and a _really_ nervous Tracey at the table.

"Well?" Amanda asked expectantly, gesturing over to Michael. "Are you gonna tell your father what you told me?"

The pessimistic thoughts ran through his head again, despite how happy his wife appeared to be. Was it more Fame or Shame shit? Or maybe she'd miraculously been good at that audition he'd gotten her?

"Dad, I…" Tracey said, trailing off before a huge grin spread across her face. "I got into college!"

He stood there, dumbfounded. College? _His_ daughter? This _had_ to be a dream now; it was way too good to be true. "I...I, uh, wow, Trace," he stuttered, still in shock. "How? Er, fuck, I mean...when did you even apply? You just never told me is all…"

"Wow, thanks for the confidence, Dad," she said sarcastically. "I actually did the test again a few months ago, by the way, and applied to ULSA in the _really_ rare chance that my Fame or Shame stuff didn't take off. They emailed me the other day and said I got in."

Halfway during her explanation, his shock had finally worn off, being replaced by an all-consuming pride. "My baby girl's going to college!" Michael exclaimed happily, practically engulfing Tracey in a hug.

"Dad, stop," she laughed breathlessly, voice muffled against his chest. "You're kinda crushing me here…"

He laughed a little bit himself as he pulled away. "Sorry. It's just...this means _a lot_ to your mom and I," he said, making Amanda nod next to him. "Neither of us ever went...and neither did our parents, so you're the first one in this family to ever go."

"We're so proud of you, Tracey. Of both of you," Amanda said with a weak smile. She looked down at the floor, sighing wistfully. "You two are finally growing up…"

"Oh God, don't cry on me, Mom," Tracey said. "I don't want to be _too_ depressed today."

"I'm _not._ Not gonna…" Amanda trailed off, wiping at her eyes furiously, but still allowed Michael to wrap his arms around her waist anyway. "Not gonna cry…"

 _Oh, she's totally gonna cry_ , he thought, judging by the way she stubbornly set her jaw as if to try not to. He looked over to the kids and jerked his head towards the door in a silent plea, urging them to get out before they were exposed to their mother crying over how they weren't babies for half an hour.

"Alright then," Jimmy said, slowly backing away. "I...have to go to work soon...so, uh, yeah, cya…"

Tracey followed suit. "Um, yeah. I have to be...somewhere," she said, quickly grabbing her car keys and starting for the door. "See you later!"

Great. They both had inherited one of their parents' worst traits: the subtlety of a brick.

The second they were out the door, Michael turned his wife around to face him. "You're gonna cry now, aren't you?"

"Fuck off, Michael," she muttered, playfully punching him in the arm. "I'm just really happy, okay?"

"Uh-huh, sure, babe," he said sarcastically, but gave her a gentle kiss on her forehead and brushed a few stray locks of hair away from her face. "You gonna be okay while I go shower? And I think both of us could use a trip to clear our heads afterwards…"

"Yeah, I guess...unless you wanna join me in my morning yoga," she said, smirking.

"Shower it is, then."

* * *

"I should've known this would be the place you go to clear your head," Amanda said teasingly, resting her head against his shoulder and her hand on his arm as they strolled down Del Perro Pier. It was surprisingly not as busy as usual, maybe due to the chilly weather or probably because it was still ten in the morning. Either way, it was nearly empty, much to the relief of the couple.

Michael sighed in relief at her comforting touch and the way she nuzzled against his arm. "Yeah, I always used to come here when I was feeling particularly shitty about myself or when I just needed think about shit," he said. "And after what happened earlier, that's exactly what I wanna do."

"It is weird, huh?" she asked with a smile. "That our kids might actually become responsible adults…"

"Feels like I'm living in a parallel fuckin' universe. Y'know, I almost wanted to tell them 'who are you and what have you done with my kids?'" he said, earning a laugh from Amanda. "Who knows? Maybe we actually did do a good job with them for once."

"...Or they're just growing up and don't need to listen to our bullshit anymore," she added much more sensibly.

"Ah, yeah, it probably is that…"

By this time, their little walk had led them to the end of the pier and to Michael's usual spot. He inhaled deeply, taking in the fresh (if slightly polluted), salty sea air, and smiled.

Ever since they'd moved to Los Santos, he'd loved the ocean. It had always been calming to him; something about the sound of the waves crashing against the shore and the sight of them rolling against each other always comforted him even in the worst moments of his life. It had been the reason he'd gone there the night after he'd cheated on Amanda and the day they had left him.

Today was a stark contrast to the usual reasons he went there, though. Instead of feeling so horrible that he couldn't function, he felt so happy that he didn't know what to do with himself. He leaned against the railing with that dumb smile still on his face and simply watched the ocean with Amanda.

What was it he'd said to her before they'd left North Yankton? " _We can get out. Be happy. Be normal"?_ Maybe it didn't work out the first time, but he was sure as hell gonna make it work the second, even though being normal was way out of the equation for them at this point).

Over the past week that they'd been back together, he'd finally figured out some things, mainly the reason over why he'd obsessed over the "good old days" even though they weren't that great to begin with (something he'd realized in between getting kidnapped in North Yankton and being tortured while hanging from a meat hook): he'd wanted _closure_. Things back in Ludendorff had ended so abruptly and he'd never felt completely finished, at least not until he finally did the Union Depository. That was when he knew he was well and truly _done._

Now, with his wife beside him and his kids finally moving on with their lives, he finally felt ready. Ready to begin the so-called "second act of his life" without the first one plaguing him anymore. Oh, he'd probably miss it, he knew that for sure, but caring about two things at once nearly destroyed him and he knew he needed to let one go. Looking at Amanda now, he knew which one he wanted to keep.

Amanda looked back at him, making his heart thump a little harder in his chest. She was framed by the bright neon blue lights flashing above her from the sketchy, 20-year-old rides above them, bringing out the warmth in her own blue eyes, and her hair was fluttering in the wind from the roller coaster roaring past them.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked him teasingly, but a knowing blush started spreading across her cheeks.

"About how much I love you," he said softly, making her roll her eyes playfully. He could tell that she was thinking about how cheesy he was no doubt being.

"Of course you are," she laughed before snuggling up against his arm and sighing in contentment. "This is nice…"

"Yeah, it really is…" he said, trying to distract himself from her warmth against him and how much he _really_ wanted to kiss her right now. "Makes me wanna take you up on that beach house offer. But I think I've had my fill of it for now. What about you?"

"Aw, c'mon, babe, you're gonna leave without riding with the roller coaster?" Amanda asked teasingly, gesturing to the unsteady, probably-breaking-a-few-safety-violations contraption behind them.

" _No,_ " he said sternly. "You know how much I fuckin' hate those things, 'Mand…"

She giggled at that. Of course she would; the last time they'd been on one together resulted in him screaming _"Get me the FUCK off this thing!"_ and how " _This isn't fucking fun!"_ In hindsight, it was probably the most scared she'd ever seen him. "I still don't get how you can drive from cops at a hundred miles an hour, but you're scared of a little amusement park ride," she said.

"Well, A) I fucking hate heights and B) I at least get to control the car instead of relying on some piece of shit that hasn't been regulated in a couple decades," he said, maybe a little too bitter towards the poor roller coaster.

"Okay, fine," she said, still laughing a little as she gestured to the other ride on the pier. "What about the Ferris Wheel? I promise you it's not as scary."

There was an underlying smugness to her tone, a challenge that she was begging him to accept. "Okay, fine," he muttered as he pulled out his wallet. "You're on."

After paying eight bucks per ticket (highway robbery in his opinion), the two sat in a cart that sounded far too rickety for his taste. But with Amanda's hand gently on his arm and her soothing voice telling him that it was fine, he suddenly didn't mind it so much. The view wasn't half bad either; they could practically see the entirety of Los Santos waking up and starting to slowly move about their daily lives as they went higher and higher.

"So…" he started, trying to distract himself from his nervousness. "It's been one hell of a week, huh?"

"That's the understatement of the year," she said with a smirk. "Best week of my life."

"Mine too," he said softly. "But...I, uh, I wanted to talk to you about something, babe."

"Something good, I hope?"

"Obviously," he said. "I just wanted to tell you that I've been thinkin' a lot over the past couple days. About us. And I wanted to say that...I want this. I want _you_. I guess the last couple months have made me realize how much I missed us…"

"Me too," she whispered, leaning closer to him. They were almost at the top now, and the closer they got there, the closer their lips became. "We're gonna do it this time, Michael, and we're gonna do it right…"

The second they hit the top of the Ferris Wheel is when they finally kissed. It was soft and slow, almost chaste compared to their normal fiery, hungry kisses. He could still taste the sea salt against her lips and could feel the smile on her lips against his long after he pulled away.

He grabbed her hand as the Ferris Wheel soon started its slow descent after their kiss. "Good talk," he whispered.

She gripped his hand back. "Good talk."

* * *

By the time they made it home, it was nearly noon, but neither of them cared. The time at the pier had flown by, and definitely in a good way. The kids were still gone when there got back; Jimmy at work and Tracey still out doing "something" (whatever the hell _that_ meant).

"I guess we better get used to this feeling," Michael said of the almost eery silence he had been all too familiar with a couple months ago.

Amanda-who had the pleasure of never having to experience it-couldn't quite shake it. "I don't know... it's kind of creepy," she said unsurely. Their normal chaotic house was silent for once, the only sounds being the soft music of their radio and their own soft voices.

"Yeah, well, the creepiness kinda stops after a while," he muttered. In a good or a bad way this time, he couldn't tell. Hopefully the latter (he wasn't sure if he could stand to endure the former again). He walked back into the kitchen and sat back down at the table, where his newspaper from earlier sat unread. "Guess I never got the chance to finish this from earlier…"

She looked at him as if he was either high or fucking with her. "Since when have you _ever_ read the newspaper?" she asked, raising an eyebrow suspiciously.

He honestly wasn't sure himself. "Uh, I actually dunno," he muttered thoughtfully. "I always read it at the studio now, though."

She stood next to where he was sitting, peering over at the bold headlines that plastered the front of the paper. The news had become unsurprisingly boring since he'd retired again. Los Santos journalism was back to its core: tabloid shit about celebrities and reports of the petty crime that plagued the city. "Hm, nothing good…" she muttered.

"Yeah, I almost miss the articles being all about me," he laughed before, much to her horror, turning over to the crossword section. She flashed back to a tipsy conversation they'd had only a few nights ago:

" _Honey, I need you to promise me something, it's really important…" he'd whispered in her ear._

" _Yeah?" she'd asked._

" _If we ever become as boring as these fuckin' guys," he'd said to her as he gestured over to the miserable couples that filled the bar. "If we ever get to the point of doing the crossword every morning and wearing matching sweaters and shit, I want you to take me outside, throw me in the pool, and hold me down 'til I stop kicking."_

"Hey, 'Mand, what's a four-letter word for 'tarnish?'" he asked, frowning as he stared down at the puzzle in deep concentration. Oh God, it was worse than she thought…

 _Better act fast._ "Um, shit! I totally forgot, I have a surprise for you, babe," she said, most of her blatant lying and horrible acting lost on his concentration.

Michael looked at her from the paper with a flirty, cocky smirk on his face, and it almost made her feel bad for what she was about to do. "Oh, yeah?" he asked with a laugh. "And what is that?"

"Well, it wouldn't be a surprise if I told you, would it?" she asked seductively, taking his hand and leading him to get up. "Now, close your eyes, darling."

"What?"

"Just close your eyes. Trust me," she said, adding the last part at his apparent hesitation. When he did, she started leading him outside and stopped him when he was obliviously standing at the edge of the pool.

"Honestly, I can't remember the last time I _did_ trust you," he said playfully.

 _And maybe you're right not to_ , she thought as she rested her hands on his shoulders. "So, do you remember that talk we had Saturday night at the bar? Before we got totally wasted?"

He started to grow suspicious at that. "Ah, yeah. About those fuckin' boring couples who...wait a goddamn second," he said, starting to open his eyes. "Amanda, _don't-"_

Before he could finish his no doubt unhappy protest, it was too late. She'd given him a good push and he'd landed in the pool with a thunderous splash. It took him a couple seconds, but he soon came up, coughing and spluttering and angry as _hell_.

"Y'know you coulda warned me," he said as he spat out some of the water and swept the dripping-wet hair away from his forehead.

"Then you would've tried to stop me," she said with a smirk. "You're just lucky I didn't follow through on the last half of that promise."

He rolled his eyes at that and tried to climb out of the pool before slipping on the puddles of water, ending up right back in the pool. Amanda immediately burst out laughing at that, having to use her hand to stifle her giggles.

"Okay, ha ha, very fucking funny," he muttered, resting his arms on the edge of the pool with a sigh of defeat. "Will you at least help me out of this shit?"

"Alright, fine. I think you've suffered enough," she said, still laughing as she leaned down to offer him her hand.

"Yeah, but I don't think you have…" With one swift pull of his hand, he sent her falling forward and into the pool next to him with a splash of her own.

"I...probably deserved that," she admitted after suffering the same shock into the icy water as her husband did.

He smiled, brushing a wet lock of hair away from her face. "Just a little bit. And you never did answer my question about the crossword."

"That was actually a question I do know, by the way. The answer was 'dull'," she said, earning a relieved smile from Michael. "So...I guess we're that boring couple now," she noted with an almost sad smile.

Michael gripped her hand under the water and started to lean in for a kiss. "Well, I don't know about you, but if this is boring, then I don't wanna be crazy ever again…"


End file.
